Drive

poetry by Alex Guarco

I told you I was lost in you,

like I was some one-hit-wonder radio lookalike,

only I

realize now that my misplacement was little more

than a feeling of place,

a feeling I’ve been waiting years to experience,

a knowing of where I was at the time,

a knowing that

there, with you,

was where

I belonged.

I wouldn’t go out and say it was love,

it was just whatever

two 19-year-olds are capable of

on a Wednesday night,

parked too far away from the drive-in screen

to see any the movie.

You know,

I’ve brought other girls to that drive-in,

in the same car,

laid down on the same couple of pillows,

even thrown the same blanket over us

when the second movie started.

The difference is,

no matter how many rows back we were,

with them, I always watched the movie,

and if we touched underneath the blanket,

or if they rolled their head over and smiled to me,

I’d smile back, squeeze their hand a little tighter

because I knew that’s what I was supposed to do.

But with you, when the intermission was over,

I let our bare legs get cold,

not really sure what to do,

like that blanket wasn’t even there.

So I rolled my head towards yours,

and we both

squeezed our hands tighter,

both

knowing that’s what we were supposed to do.

And after

catching each other in the act,

realizing we were too busy knowing and

too far from enjoying,

we got lost,

unsure what to do next, but

it was okay because for the first time

we found life.

---

Alex Guarco is a sophomore creative writing major at Susquehanna University. He's president of SU Slam Poetry and a member of the Ultimate Frisbee and Club Volleyball teams.  Alex has appeared in Outrageous Fortune, Variance, Tomfoolery Review, and Essay.

Also by Alex Gaurco: 8:30