frontwards

I was caught driving circles around your parents pond. hydroplaning on its frozen, melting skin. You were away, you never understood how magical the sounds of squealing tires and cracking ice sound when you lay one on top of the other. You, with your imaginary New York. I knew it couldn't work. Not when the vibrations of a cell phone felt like someone shaking me out of our bed. Cause i've spent a thousand drunken summers, treked through one hundred quiet bars. I've seen a million empty faces, but not one of them was ours.