Passenger Seat Poem by Sarah Elizabeth Clark
Passenger Seat
I brush your arm
we fog the windows,
just like he and I before.
Fingertip memory.
I’ll get inside, if you let me…
But you don’t,
more like him than ever.
Fingertip memory.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: relationship
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4/23/2024 9:38:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Hmm...seems I remember feeling this way a few times also. Nicely put!