The Backseat
- Moe Godat
- Feb 4, 2018
- 1 min read
The Backseat
A fever rages in my chest--
Come, press your cold fingers to it--
I want to feel your soul again
and drink it in.
My brain is bogged by age
and addled with pain,
coursing in plenty
Remind me, sweet friend, what
it was like to be twenty and young,
corrupted only by the smoke passing
from your lungs and into mine.
Let me taste that as we listen to
songs about America, and about being
kind. We can go back in time and sit
stopping our futures apart from moving in
and letting someone else's words
free us.
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