stockholm syndrome

two part harmony on the way home: five hour ride
beside her and her CD case: after days of feeling out of place
i kept on praying grace would return to me. plucking a shiny CD
between forefinger and thumb, something familiar
from the plastic pages of the folder,
in place of something to say-
in that place, of something thoughtful to say
that would dismantle the awkwardness, my uncomfortable way
into music, a gentle placeholder.

and while the sentiment
was rather sweet, i sighed:
the songs meant nothing on repeat
and my eyes were sore from being wide,
and i was unable to feel.

and she sang behind the steering wheel, loud and unashamed
as i was tame, and cooed
the words i knew, and same
as song, i felt my shoulders bloom and neck stretch long,
swanlike a moment- just one moment- strong

then sank back into the passenger's seat,
nervous again, again as all along.