those backroads led us everywhere…in the dark…in search of gravel paths…parking lots…Amish farmlands for sins to take place…

were we driving north or south on Highway 8…or was it east…maybe west…just tryin’ to get back home…

and we stopped at a train track with locomotives running like old ghosts…banshees….with a hundred big-rigs behind us…trying to get a glimpse of your nakedness…your beauty…

kisses as rains fell hard on windows…pulls on ears…bites on the arm…and a car driving itself…back to a home of milk and honey…and wine while music played and played and played….

clothes left in a living room…a kitchen…a front seat…found in the morning…before a new sunrise…

I still smell her….God…what a night…