the warmth pulls out
the i-don't-knows
and ice cream woes
behind the tips of your eyelashes that curl up
with your older sisters mascara
that we used to dabble in when we were kids
and now we dab on ferociously and we are still kids
the car will honk outside
and you'll yank me from the mirror
grab my coat
grab my coat
you'll yell up the stairs as you take them two at a time
and i am amazed how you do not trip
i'll grab it and hustle down right
behind you
you'll call shotgun
and i'll get the backseat which smells slightly
musty and smoky and altogether undesirable
but it will be fine because i'll tell peter
to roll down the windows
and i'll stick out my
head because i don't care if my hair gets mussed up
as long as i feel
alive