No Dress Code

We didn’t need a dress code,
a fancy reservation
not even a candle.
Well, not in the traditional sense.
Whatever we had on
was enough.

You sat beside me,
hand on the wheel,
navigating your thoughts.
Every curve, every bump
I was there with you.

The streetlights passed by,
lighting up your arm,
then your face.
You talked about your past,
the things that keep you up at night.

Neither of us noticed
how long Poplar really was.
Our second time
following the strip up and down,
turning left onto White Station.

You felt at ease,
the more I listened
your voice like 90s R&B after the break,
knowing the song’s about to go off
but not wanting it to go off.

I felt you settle into me
way before you readjusted in your seat,
way before you looked at me
and smiled.

There were no flowers,
no dinner followed by a movie.
Just us,
riding around the city,
lost in ourselves.