4th Movement of the Odyssey

“I’d like to know,” he began,
turning the defrost up to an audible 3,
“just what is so endearing about melancholy
that compels me to desire it stick around for so long?”
Silence followed, save the white noise of the heater.
The snow in the headlights reminded him of stars,
flying past some interstellar spacecraft.
The road crunched and slipped under the buick
and only then would he wonder how old these tires are.
He turned to look at the passenger seat
as clarity slowly crept up the windshield.
He waited for her to say something cute,
something with her effortless profundity
that he made sure she thought he hated.
and if she were there, she might have.

~ by saintchristopher on January 6, 2009.