The freeway sputtering through the sunroof
Is thick with a June afternoon.
Humid, nearly wet, from summer days to come.
My thoughts are wandering sloppily, skipping
Through possibilities rapidly.
I won't settle down into an idea for a week or two
At which time I'll probably get stuck on missing you.
I'm trying harder than before to let go.
My intentions were clear,
And your "reasons" clearly excuses.
But I won't blame you, I've got baggage to drag around,
And you are light, like a beach towel floating
On long, healthy, summer grass.
All this wondering is stupid after all.
Worthless pondering, forcefully formulating a perspective.
If I had less of an angle, there might have been more room
For something other than all-or-nothing.
And right now you could convince me to pretend
To be as indifferent as you'd like
If it ment you'd lay down with me tonight
And let me taste again a little of the good life.
Now that's something I can spend a long ride dreaming of.
But I'd be better off to think of anything but,
So I'll spend the next few hours dreaming of mixed nothings
Even though nearly everything reminds me of you.
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