While they drove into the center of the night's
fog, the windshield wipers swiped away traces
of the clinging mist.
He shifted into fifth gear and her thoughts
revved into a mindless game of solitaire.
She counted the infinite number of white lines
and wondered which one she had crossed head-on
into life's little compromises.
Her left hand rested comfortably on the nape of
his neck and she stroked his ego as he downshifted
to better corner the approaching turn.
She sat trance-like replaying in her head what he
had "not" said because he had a way of telepathically
communicating his feelings with non-verbal gestures --
shifty eyes, a touch, or a misplaced glance.
Somehow she was coaxed into believing that promises
are kept, especially between long lost lovers seeking
a second chance at the remnants of happiness.
But no pennies could buy her thoughts and no private
declaration of better days would free her from guilt.
The haze thickened and he picked up speed.
They were repeat offenders and both knew the situation.
They just didn't know how stop or move on.
Or how to let go of the pretentious bedside manners
they had become accustomed to acting out.
Or how to let the ache of not being forever together
settle in their bellies without regurgitating feigned
memories of love.
Or how to buy hope a one-way ticket on a speeding
train to live happily ever after in the City of
Concocted Alibis.
Or how they were able to swallow the devil's poison
with such ease and disguise it with the pleasantries
of temptation.
"We'll be there in five minutes," he said as he placed
his right hand on her left knee. She didn't respond
to his touch.
Instead, she wondered if the rain ever sought shelter
from the storm? If the sun turned away from its shine?
If laughter was ever sad? If yes really wanted to say no?
And if the truth was somehow sifted through lily-white lies,
would it still resemble the truth.
At what point would she be able to reconcile her unspoken
vow of sisterhood with her prayers of wanting what belonged
to another.
And although the glass slipper appeared to fit monetarily,
she secretly wondered what she would pray for if she were
in her shoes.
The car stopped.
The moonlight peeked through the clouds.
She thought how clear things looked through the vapor
of fogged windows.
