Happy Is Running With You Poem by Charles Malcolm

when the sun rises at noon
tires spinning
responsibilities in the rear view.
Cutting corners
forging signatures
a stack of twenties
and the way she budgets our next 24.
Pad and pen and tight denim legs.
Potato soup and chocolate pie for lunch.
Menthol cigarettes just after.
Driving nowhere way too quickly
following random cars
too far with no reason.
Scorching wind
loud music and her bare feet
hanging out of the passenger window.
Those dark shades
over-sized
evil smile
as we fondle each other's palms.
Enough smokes for the entire ride
and unearned cash to last the night.
A bottle of gold tequila at dusk
stomping through wood chips at city parks
collapsing on slippery dips
and the taste of her mouth.
Bailing with tangled fingers
and her left cheek on my shoulder.
Paper bags of greasy food for dinner
and how she looks when she eats it.
The white picket smile and sealed eyes
as I snap her picture.
Stumbling together past black glass
and neon lights.
The look in the eyes of the homeless
when I toss them a five
and she shows them her breasts.
Sneaking into a terrible movie
leaving halfway through
to screw against a concrete wall.
Never well but always the best.
Swerving home and falling in bed
completely together.
Laughing, drinking, smoking,
and foreplay
until we pass out.

When the sky is dark blue
and the birds and her breath
are my fading soundtrack.