notes on an image that doesn’t exist yet

you half leaning out an open car window, the car is parked it's light out, your hair has grown back down to your shoulders, you're wearing that white t-shirt that once turned blue in the wash, like all our other things, you're not looking at me, I bet you’re thinking about your thesis, I bet you’re thinking about writing about home, I bet you’re thinking about how I look standing over there camera pointed at you, I bet you’re gonna tuck your hair behind your ear soon, look over, will the pink light change, I think in this one it's early afternoon, I bet one of us will say ‘i love you’ kinda like making  eyes like that at me, makes me feel heated (like you always say) you’ll tap your hand lightly on the side of the car in a jazz form, you’ll think of a song idea even though you said you wouldn’t write them anymore, that no more girls would get songs, sun will beam hot for a few minutes, all light up on your arms, then back to a lilac fade, can we keep going now