Sunday, March 30, 2008

Sunday, March 30, 2008. If you are sleeping in, this is your morning wake-up call.

(The rain fills the night's windshield drop by drop and blurs our vision. the sound of fingertips tapping fill the space. The driver side door opens and two bodies file in, laughing and soaking in the seats. They start the car, turning on the headlights and watch the windshield.)
The heat won't begin until we start to drive. Sit back into the crease of the seat where the air can't blow your damp flesh. Wipe your arms off with my old shirts or jump in the back, changing into my gym clothes, too large and hanging from the shoulder. Pull your knees up to your chin and set your head up on them. Write your name on the fogging windows, write mine. Wake up.