-night drive-

everything i said to you was brilliant.  so much that i could feel your silence listing my way through each perfectly missed turn.  something like faith, my hand on the wheel.  you fully allowing me the light of the moon.  most times the moon open to my theories as the road full of cliché; the blink of your face at the turn of my eye, the struggle for somewhere so true of nowhere.  there were times i said nothing, as though not to alarm a farmer on watch for his harvest of locust.  those residual moments when the radio stirred in its sleep.  the wind missing chances to break free with your hair.  in them i realized so sweeping your belief in disbelief.  likewise, the ghost of that farmer leading with torches its horses crossing the road on crutches.  i suppose everything i said proved immeasurable the distance between driver and rearview, voice and throat.  though i still felt lost and strangely alone as your shadow so easily dodged the passing signs.  they all said: left to guess, passably right.