Low humming,
both from this dirty coated car
and the voice I provide.
Cold breezes touch my hands,
contradicting the hot waves
gliding down my arms.

Palm trees merge by
with a beige colored ground,
and soft blues from the top.
Occasional neons
will pop through,
a minuscule distraction
compared to the seat next to me.

Two creamers mixed into a cup
of coffee or a human lightly
by the Sun’s fingertips.
A color nothing too rare,
as it decorates most
people’s skin in this town.
The car’s interior happily
matches with them as well.

Imprints of your body remain
on the seat’s leather cushion.
Scuff marks stained on the floor,
detailing different journeys
of the soils we’ve basked in.
The dashboard stays decorated,
its right half littered with dates.