This way, this way,
moonlight drips on the hood of my car—
I follow the echo of your laugh
past every exit that says “too far.”
Tires whisper, “turn back,”
but the beat in my chest keeps rolling,
rolling like vinyl in a midnight stack.
Your name glows on the dash,
a constellation spelling “stay”;
I don’t need map or match,
just the smoke of your perfume
and this highway that knows my way home.