Sing me passenger seats—
windows down, frost
collects on our laughter.
The wind is so cold but
generated heat blasts our
mudded hiking boots.
The world doesn’t matter.
A waltz on the radio.
I dream in mountain roads—
icicles blaze cliffsides
a moment frozen
sparkling.
We joke about death
I picture our car tumbling
down the mountain
a sweet child’s toy.
I can’t stop loving you
and the air is so clean
pine and snow and snow and snow
dissolve past the window.
Timelessness
in evergreen and three four timing
a painful lilt
because ice melts
and our eyes are the same color.
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