Pictures of Passing Cars

I am laying in my bed at a usual time after midnight, doing my usual, uninvited after midnight self examination, when that song fills my ears.  The song, a tune I would have otherwise have disliked had it not circumstantially been placed at a particular moment.  It now is the only way I can accurately recall the situation with emotion and the exact feeling I had. So here is another one of my 2 Am raving/reminiscence/only time I can write anymore passages.

I remember lazily swinging back and forth,upon our backs, side by side idly looking at the sunset kissed backyard party only because it was there before us.  We were impervious to the ruckus surrounding us, the babbling of the party goers a mere hum.  The faded dingy flowers that adorned the fabric of the backyard swing you described- they were native to Arizona. You spoke wistfully, telling me their true color (which I do not remember), and how they were ten times as beautiful in real life.  I listened drowsily, happy to hear you reminisce. I leaned over to meet the sandy red dirt with my finger, penning your name on the surface.  Your leaned over me and composed mine, to look like my handwriting as I had replicated yours. 

My heart aches and presses with longing to return to that window of time.  Before the immense pain we inflicted on each other. If I could take it all away and return to then, I could live beside you with one hand intertwined in yours, the other in your hair, swinging a slow pendulum. 

Now I know that when ever i need to remember, I listen to the song was playing on the radio when we traced our names.  Just to hear the slightly higher pitched voice of a you 3 years ago tell me about your mother and Arizona Flowers.