Keena Du night drive

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and at every red light he turns, cheeks red under the red. he’s inches away, fingertip’s reach, and the necessity of it is a comfort to you. you think to yourself that no one looks as good as they do when it’s dark, and the windows are rolled up to let every word bathe in the quiet mint-breath air, and the greens and yellows and reds of the traffic lights are streaming across the profile, like a piece of stained glass that can’t decide what to do when the sunlight shines through it. i’ll take it all, it says. every technicolor shard. it’s beautiful, really. absolutely breathtaking.