we're doing one-twenty in a ninety zone,
with the sun in the distance and the humidity rising,
our backs turned to the world.

maybe we'll get there at ten-thirty am,
but if we push the speed limit any more,
we could get there by a quarter after ten.

it's not too important,
because i've rolled down my window,
to rid myself of the bad nineties music,
and the bad conversation,
and the way that i can't stop replaying your words.

because, apparently, this was never going to work,
and, apparently, we were both supposed to know that.