dream on, baby. all our roads lead to rome

(view on computer for intended formatting)

on the 580 there is a boy
sitting next to you, whose silence makes you start
to feel like everything could be okay
and you sit with him for over an hour without asking why
you haven’t gone faster. he lets you keep your hand
on the stick and grinds it
and you know that he wants to push it further 
down this road. with you,
the night time stretches for miles
and somehow he understands that the moment his eyes drift closed is
the moment that you feel safest to look.
but he can’t let his eyes off the road
so you can’t look, so you push the gear further
just to see if he will go.

you don’t know where you are going but you know
that when you stop, he will tilt his head to the side and
bare his teeth. and you have to wonder if you would.
give your soul to him neck first
and he will make sure your blood doesn’t get on the seat
so you don’t have to
open your eyes in your dream
to know that he is looking at you
because he promised to keep watch and
his word is god and you’d maybe
feel faithful to this one because it’s the first time in your life
that it isn’t messy

you find the edge between the lines on the road and you ride it.
and the quiet is peaceful. but your body has lived through war, and
you think you might like the sound of his voice more.
it’s simple; you move to the second gear. it’s simple;
it’s one clean push forward but your hand doesn’t know the difference
between space and time, and the morning is coming
in just past his road head.
but would it be bad to tell him to stop
halfway down this highway
because you don’t know where you are going
and you have long passed home

behind you is the night. next to you is a boy
that you think could end your life
by simply reaching into your chest. your ribs are 
opening up for him already.
you want to know what the daylight with him is like without pulling back
to the first gear. the wheel spins inside of you
at the start of the exit
and you think you like this drive enough to love it. so you turn,
your face up to the sky. and he lets you
because you both never knew where you wanted to go anyways
and you tell each other that the night will come again