perhaps:

I meet you in the parking lot, in the usual space,
and we speed off with exquisite recklessness in the
dead of night, thinking of nothing at all.
you park near that one tree in that special
place (the one with all the memories.) and we
sink into each other, our bodies crying out for
more, more, more—(deeper, louder, faster)—

and perhaps:

we laugh in bleak midwinters at what became of
our teenage lust, and what became of our
youthful passion (what happened to our naïveté).
I meet your friends and you meet mine
and illicit happiness no longer thrills
or even provokes a bitter smile. so we pack our
ironic baggage and move on into the dark horizon—

or:

perhaps
not.