We jumped in your car that night and drove to the shore, taking the long way through the highway, windows rolled down fingers making trails through the hard-hitting air. We played the music loud and the lights slurred like our tongues trying hard to pronounce the words that were beating out of the stereo. The cars beside us were like animals threatening to swallow us whole; maybe we were tired, maybe we were rushing, or maybe we were just high on each other. The stars were cliche and the moon was new, the air crisp like the snapping of the gum in your mouth.
And then I wrote.