Chardonnay in red wine glasses
Head tossed back, as I keep laughing
Shopping carts in ally ways
And maybe we’ll pretend to fly.
Freedom is an empty parking lot
Lit by low lights,
In the middle of the night
And pulling off clothes while dancing
On the frozen asphalt of September
Stopped only by the brilliance of
Gripping rails to fire escapes
Pulling us closer to God

This is our getaway