Andy, when are you going to tell me
what you think about when you drive
with that unfocused gaze that blurs
the three upcoming traffic lights
into the spotted rows of Twister plastic?
Do you entertain wistful designs,
or watch helicopter thoughts collide?
Do you enjoy the silence, or do you
hold your body rigidly still to make me think
that we aren't in a timid awkward moment.
If you asked, I'd tell you what I think.
I wonder if you'd judge it vain that I wish
for all your dreams, both day and night,
to boast a character named Sarah, and
that she makes you move and reach for me.
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