We’re driving south in your old blue car. Do the blue forget-me-nots that I planted in my front yard remind you of your mom? Said you called her the other day to tell her you were worried about everything. She ended up talking about the weather instead.

I’m not sure when the winding roads began to feel less winding. I find myself daring the pavement to cave in- I think of how I’d let it swallow me whole. But then I’d end up being buried in this fucking town like the girl who went missing seven years ago. I try to talk to her ghost, but my echos are empty- I like to think she ran away from it all- that she was brave enough to go through with it and con the spectators.

I like how your car smells of cherry cigars and old cologne. I like to wonder who owned it before you. I like the crack in the windshield as the rain tempts the glass into crashing through.

I remind you how we need the rain in this drought- you tell me that I sound like your mother.

I remind you how the flowers look so thirsty- you said it doesn’t matter anymore.

I remind you how I forgot to water the forget-me-nots, but somehow they still bloomed-AMT©️