Paper cranes
We’re in between the lines, Roads stretching behind us And beneath us And ahead of us. You’re singing quietly, My mouth is a curved line, My fingers drawing circles absentmindedly on your inner thigh. IDAHO. Your knuckle lightly raps my arm and I laugh, We’ve been playing this game all weekend. Then suddenly your lips are on my arm replacing your knuckles, I can feel your lips pull into a curved line against my skin. You mumble against my skin, “Let me kiss you where it hurts” I’m slamming on the breaks because I’m caught off guard by the red light and the car in front of me and your lips on my arm just beneath my shoulder and my heart which is Everywhere, Especially on my sleeve, your fingers pushing as you kiss up my arm. And I know you’re not asking a question but I’m ready with an answer when you say, “You’re perfect. Except your driving.” I’m grinning when I tell you to shut up, Searching for license plates out the window