Over My Head

I was driving in the blue black night of 2 or 3. It was just the insomniac mockingbird, you, and me. You were pushing a barbecue grill up the hill. I was at the stoplight, standing still, with the window rolled down, and the bird was singing car alarms. We stared into each others' eyes and dreamed about each others' arms, when with great surprise you whispered I still love Shel Silverstein. You frightened me, your brave coming clean. I frowned and drove away. But rounding the corner I thought of how I once loved you. I almost turned to back to help you load the grill onto the back of my truck bed. Instead, with luck I remembered I'm done driving you around. Instead I realized you were the same alien I had found three years back. You wouldn't have respected me if I had turned back and called, Jack, let me help you load the grill into the back. Alien life understands the sanctuary of the vehicle. Your once alien threecycle I thought was so strange was all you had and loved in this world. Everything else you had left behind in the other, with your Superman comics and your father and mother. Anyway...
I didn't turn back. The mockingbird attacked my windshield, sealed, thankfully, well. I don't understand much. But I always got Mother Goose. And I, too, still love Shel.