As We Hold Hands
On the ride home from the restaurant
We hold hands in the backseat
like 12 year olds reveling in our hidden touch
The couple in front doesn't seem to take notice
Of our mischevious doings
They sit and talk
And listen to music
That they pretend to understand
You look at me
and over the soft hum of the engine and Ben Gibbard
whisper,
"I never liked Garden State.
I only liked your eyes when we watched it."
© Ricks-on-fire
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