we took a really long
drive down
carling, because carling
is so damn long
and you needed the break
i can’t legally drive
but it was a good time anyway
at the end of the
street is a school
and we parked on the side, i
talked you through while
your nerves
sank like keys in my purse
you rolled down the windows
when you were my age
you killed an eight year old girl
you couldn’t stop and she
died on the street in front of her house
now you are old
and on morphine and telling me this
so i’ll carry your pain
instead i’ve stopped
having hallucinations, fantasies,
of much older men, and i don’t
drive cars
and i don’t drive on carling
simplicity,
a backwards pedal
into a garage
your seeping wealth
of beads of sweat, dark
hair,
your back blurred
in the dryer of a
mens’ room.
stray cats, sex, grey
shorts alone and one
less cigarette a day and night
one step ahead of
the car wash,
dry air lifts my skirt,
my bangs from
across my forehead, all
while cars get gas, thorough
cleanings, vacuumed,
old tires get
renewed
Filed under poem tree
