I dream of us in Vegas,
we walk to a chapel and I beg for your hand.
Your tender fingers move the pen, binding our lives,
until we’re more than we are.
Come with me, let us dream, let us sign.
I dream of you running in the grass,
or on the swing in my mother’s yard.
I don’t have much, but I have a Ford
and my Ford can take us.
Let us make a toast, I want to drink in celebration.
I want to burn and spin, surrender to the wind,
wake up, walk naked in our home,
share a toothbrush and a comb.
Lets us drink.
Lets drink to you, resting on my pillow,
wrapped around my hands,
to the beginning, to the end of a short wait.