Wisemen.

The song starts as it always does. As do the rest. We know who it is. We know the style. But much more, we know the song.

Maybe it does not have to start at number one. Maybe the album can begin at the end or in the middle. We will sure let it, and we know that. We pick up where we leave off, and leave off where we pick up, and pick up all over again. Like a cycle. Like a cycle I know well, I hear well, I see well. Like a cycle that is my air. And I hope you know that I need this air to breathe. To live.

The inside of your car is a bit dirty. Maybe not that dirty, but there's dust on the dashboard. But I love that. I love the dust. It is a beautiful part of you.

I know that this song in particular is not our song, the song we will dance to. Maybe it is significant to neither of us. Maybe we are just kidding ourselves. But I know I love it, and I know I need it. I wonder what you're thinking and I wish I could match it up with my mind, since we are so alike in so many ways.

The sound comes through the stereo speakers and you turn it up loud. My legs are crossed on the passenger seat. My memory does not let me look at my appearance, just yours. Only yours. Always yours.

We sing along because we know the lyrics; ah, we know them well. This song means you to me, and I hope it does the same to you. It becomes reversed throughout the next few months--in retrospect, that is. The sunrise. The sunrise will fade, but will not come back again.

High.

Low now. Low? Everything opposite of happy and joyful and fun and sweet and good. I hear it now, the lyrics. I hear the words beg for that back, for what they had, what we had. We were the only two, and we were there.

But we're not.

This is not your car, and the only dust where I am is dirty dust, a rotting kind of dust. There is nothing of you here. No car. No music. No stereo. No smile. No insight. No love.

Not yours anyway.

But I need it. Can't you see that I need it? I need you and that silver car. I need to be in the front seat, sitting cross-legged, talking to you through our voices that sing, hearing the sound of our hearts beating in the speakers. The notes and keys. The sound. The words. The love.

I cannot live without you. You took it, just like that. Away from me. Gone.


And now it's hard to believe you remember me.


I will always be in the passenger seat of that car, listening to our music, with you. Forever.