Here we go, hand in hand,
turning corners, steering into the same old patterns,
still the only firefly on the road using the air as its wings.
In a moment like that, all of my windows open,
and I begin to see my lungs inflate.
So we just sit with our bodies for a while,
thinking about what could become of us.
And then I realise, this is the most I’ve said all week,
pouring my heart out to the steering wheel
and the candlelight of the dashboard.
And I hold my breath when I go under the bridge,
like it could crush me completely.
Of course it can’t, because I hold my breath.
To feel alive, I would swallow the cool November air,
clench my white knuckles around the sky, break
finger bones tapping rhythm to the drums of the night.
If only such a groove like this could exist,
I would be in tune with absolutely everything.
So we just sit with our bodies for a while.
And finally, firefly, we dance.