At least there's pretty lights

by Amy Turn Sharp

I am pretty sure that I listened to this song while I sat in the black leather bucket seat of my dad's Super Sport El Camino. There were trees flying past my eyeball corners on Rt. 33 and the sun baked me brown and all I could do was wish the song went on and on all the way to Athens.
I must have been ten years old.
I love it when I find a song again and spend the day with it like a little lover.