That feeling you get
after hooking up with someone
for three days
and now you’re just
watching television
with a platonic friend
flatline
yet
ready to rip up
the couch beneath you
and you want to crawl
into the screen
and feel the wind on your face
like these kids on a road trip
that you know isn’t as cinematic
behind the lens
but you crave
that smell of sunburnt leather
in the backseat of a 1996 Chevy
with no air conditioning
legs sticking
almost uncomfortable
but only enough
to feel alive.