I drive when I can’t sleep. I didn’t do that
before. If I could I’d cry
out with the coyotes that camp
the hills behind my parent’s house.
Wind caresses my neck
when the windows are down. Fog sits
in the canyon like a garden and
I’m buried in it and it’s beautiful.
Always 4am.
Sometimes I sit alone in the dark,
dreaming of our flowers
that didn’t bloom. There’s always
something to be weary of these days:
the fog, the coyotes,
my stupid red heart.
Sometimes all we want to be is aimless.
Sometimes all we want to be is wanted.
Sometimes all we want is both.
-JC
About this poem
As the poem suggests, I take a lot of late-night drives. And during those drives, I often listen to a playlist that I made called 4am. It’s filled to the brim with super sad, super feel-y songs that put me in a very melancholic mood. I’ve found that my mind so easily slips into an introspective, reflective place while listening. Past experiences, past relationships. It’s almost like a mental reset for me. There’s a canyon that’s pitch-black and backlit by light pollution that I sometimes drive through, and it’s that place and this feeling that inspired me to write this.