MEMORY: The Meaning of Blue (Part 1)

I would’ve stared at the sun, if not for the glare threatening to blind me.

I would’ve let the wind play with my hair, if not for the window keeping it away.

I would’ve sung along, Brick by Boring Brick, if not for my voice as stiff as a stick.

Instead, I leaned back comfortably as we cruised along the expressway.

The girl beside me prepared to take me away.

And just like that, I’ve written a poem–almost–

if not for the ride lulling me to sleep.

It was that kind of morning.

And I liked it.

“It’s fine. You can take a nap,” I heard Stella say, turning down the radio’s volume.

“Sorry, I’m a terrible co-pilot, aren’t I?” I replied, stifling back another yawn.

“Nah, it can’t be helped. You woke up early, yeah?” she said, unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, did I wake you?”

A red car overtook us which seemed to annoy my driving roommate.