Driving in Corn Fields

You make a lot of sense

With the spinning system of words,

Your politics and

References to math, and science,

The symmetry of it all,

A complex humming organism.

The symbiosis of the world’s energy.

But I’m looking at the strength of your jawline

As you speak, fervent,

Feeling the wind creep through the cracked window,

The night time maze of peep hole porch lights,

And the smell of your cigarette,

Your philosophy gets lost in the engine

And the dirt road is magic,

The stars obscured in the rear view,

It’s all so cryptic and perfect that

I want you to shut up,

I want you to hold my hand.

Play with my hair

and pretend like you don’t know anything.