We drove out to the sea
to collect our thoughts.

But I'd already left mine behind.
The list of things to repair
fell out of my hands when
you asked me to hold you
at the traffic lights.

Divided and inbetween
the commitment to our
well oiled machine,
The cogs turn to drive
us steady-a balance
between moderated feelings
and the fuel of passion.

You regulate speed with
my desire to exceed it.

Fuelled with trip after trip
Gallons of sunstroked acres
Scattered villages and
crooked country lanes.
We feel the sharp turns
soften everytime a light
catches our eyes and catches our years
until this point.

Eucalyptus trees line the last length
of our journey together. Tall and
magnificent, branches stirring the sky,
Gentle witnesses to how lost and small
we are as we meander across
great layers of dark earth.

I close my eyes.
They are bathed at once by
tissues of blood and sunlight,
The glow of a Rothko
The mottled flash of forest and sky.

I open them.
We've stopped at a great view.
But all I can see
is our abandoned car.
A shell against the skyline.