And coming closer, I catch a familiar scent
and lean my head in the open window,
breathe in, and I am sixteen again, and Peter
is sitting beside me and The Russians Love
their Children, Too is playing on the tape deck
and we’re singing along, the windows are down
and the night is warm and we’re finding a place
in the dark where we can park and practice ways
to fit our tall thin bodies into the tiny back seat.
And it’s summer. And I love him. And he loves me.
I’m downshifting and he has his hands up my shirt
and we’re laughing and we have no idea yet
just how much it will hurt when we learn
that love is not enough when it comes
to scripture and doctrine and who marries whom.
No, tonight, it’s just me and Peter and the generous
dark and Sting and the backseat just big enough
and the indifferent moon.