Red Light

You said you wanted
me to come over,
and even though it
was nearly midnight,
I agreed.
I hit every red light
between here and
your house. Start
stop wait and wait
and wait and start
just to stop and wait
again, stuck listening to
weight loss infomercials,
right wing talk radio,
that god awful jingle
for the lawyer that
tries to sound like
a wild west cowboy.
Idling under these red
cyclops eyes, I wanted
to tell you that I can't go on,
that I was tired and sick
and had to go home,
that I’d see you tomorrow,
maybe, but I finished the drive
and remembered why:
the sweet scent of your hair;
your lips against my neck,
saying,
“I’m glad you’re here.
I’m so glad you’re here.”