The laughter spills out like loose change on a cold dashboard, Echoing through the steel cage of their ride to nowhere. Her smile shines like a secondhand promise— Bright, reckless, and worth the cost. Beside her, the cowboy grips the wheel As if steering a runaway train straight through purgatory. His hat tilts low, a shadow over eyes that know too much, But still gleam like oil-slicked stars. The windshield is a crime scene, Frosted over and smeared with golden streaks of memory, As if someone tried to scrub the night clean But gave up when they realized it’s already too late. Snow piles on the hood like forgotten sins, And the world outside blurs into black and white nothing. But inside—inside, they’re golden. Crumpled and laughing, stained with joy Like they’ve finally outrun the dark.