Our wheels vibrate beneath usnBut you seem undaunted by the motion.nThe sun electrifies your sweater nWhile Washington Square Park passes on the right.nnThe monument looks less like an arch and more like a nfrown. Because I know your back will never arch for me nagain. Our bus hits a pothole nAnd one of us jumps as we see the airport.nGrowing larger and larger through the rain.nnOur momentum in this momentnCould carry us to the moon, nWhere we'd sleep in separate cratersnand hum a different tune.nIt hurts to think about the wasted nights I spent ruining nmy voice. Under your window.nWhen all we have now is the banal tick-tock of the ncuckoo click And the silence living in our shadow.