I roll the window down and then begin to breathe in the darkest country road and the strong scent of evergreen from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
Then looking upwards I strain my eyes and try to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"Do they collide?" I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash the world doesn't matter.
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride; when you need directions then I'll be the guide for all time. For all time.