Saturday night, just after a dinner for three in silence. I finally get tired of my misguided jealousy and call a dear friend I don't see as often as I should. He used to love me, I ask if he wants to pick me up with his car. Sure, he says, where do you want to go? It doesn't matter I say, just bring that CD.
He knows what I mean and shows up outside our house twenty minutes later. Can I sit in the back seat, I ask.
We drive for hours, past fields and forests that haven't yet burned down. I can smell the gasoline, just like I could years ago in another car, but this time I'm not afraid. I don't need his protection like I did back then when he was someone else, someone older. He looks at me through the rear view mirror, I turn away so he won't see me crying to the song we're playing over and over again.
I think you're the same as me
we see things they'll never see
you and I are gonna live forever