No track to lose

about me listening to that true crime podcast in the car:

thanks. i know you found it annoying,

and you know i would not have made the same sacrifice for you.

thank you, you, for not bringing that up,

for we have never kept score.

stopping for your afternoon coffee at a dunkin donuts

in a fading valley town halfway home:

a small french vanilla. i wait, patient, in the car.

good? i ask, and you tell me it could be sweeter,

but considering this, love,

i can’t imagine how.