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The thing about the golden hour…is that it lies
It promises a soft ending
But it’s just the prelude to a long dark drive
And I’m already on the I-5
With you in the passenger seat…
A silhouette chewing on a straw
And all of California is bleeding honey
Dashboard dust turns to glitter
The sun a ripe peach in the rearview getting flatter
You’re talking ‘bout your father’s ranch in Arizona
But your voice is just a soft radio under the static
And I’m not listening to the words
Just the shape your mouth makes around “could’ve been”
We pass a truck carrying skeletal trees
And for a second we’re the only living things
The light does something treacherous
Makes your knuckles look like something I should know
Makes the leather seat feel like a confession booth
I’m telling you everything
By saying nothing at all
Just shifting gears
And it’s golden hour on the I-5
Everything gilded everything a beautiful die
We’re a painting in motion a slow-motion crime
In this holy stolen time
Where the highway sings a hymn
And the shadows start to swim
And the promise hangs between us—
The promise and the peril of the dim
You crack the window smell of sage and diesel
Point to a hawk riding a thermal effortless and legal
I think about captivity and how my heart’s a little animal
Pacing in the cage of my ribs
You light a cigarette the ember a tiny violent sunset
And I memorize the way the smoke escapes your lips
It’s more intimate than any kiss we’ve ever risked
This is the part I’ll miss when it’s over
Not the destination just the overture
The not-yet the almost the nearly-there fever
The map folded in the glove box creased with all our maybes
Before the road gets serious
Before the night undoes all this gorgeous tragic light
And it’s golden hour on the I-5
Everything molten everything we’ll barely survive
We’re a photograph fading a last chance to be alive
In this holy stolen time
Where the white lines are a hymn
And the future’s looking thin
And the promise hangs between us—
The promise and the turning-off of the din
The gold is leaking out the bottom of the sky now
Purple coming in like a bruise
You ask “Should we stop for food”
And I say “Yeah in a few ”
Buying us more miles of this beautiful blue
Just a few more miles…
Of this beautiful beautiful blue
