but if this is our novel then flip to the middle. where you find me in night time car rides, where i let my eyes follow the streetlights, skip from one lamp to the next, but we drive too quickly for my eyes to ever land. so i settle on the gaps between them, the snippets of sky contained by streetlight divisions and telephone poles. i find you in the spaces between blurred lines. where i form you from pitch black. trace you from constellations until i remember what you look like. my eyes blur, so i close them on the way home.