Evening Drive

I want to drive with you down long, dark roads, through islands of illumination created by too-far-apart streetlights, windows down, warm summer wind pulling at our clothes and our conversation.  I will reach for your hand, jolt at the initial electric shock of your touch, and sigh into the sandpaper grip of your callouses.  A universe of words, of confessions and desires unspoken, will whisper, soul-to-soul, in that scant contact.  I will feel the pounding of my anxious heart in the veins behind my ears and fight the sudden constriction on the expansion of my lungs.  Each moment intensified, every sensation magnified, my heart becomes a banked fire, my soul, a contained explosion.  I want to hold your hand, but it will never be enough to slake the thirst for you that quakes my very being.