The Drive, #186

I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

From the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

My heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

Leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

Doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

The arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

After the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

No chance of understanding
after the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
Leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

These ill-suited parents left
no chance of understanding
after the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

With their deft aimed epithets
these ill-suited parents left
no chance of understanding.
After the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

Well-trained, spot-on sharpshooters
with their deft aimed epithets,
these ill-suited parents left
no chance of understanding.
After the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

We knew our mom and dad were
well-trained, spot-on sharpshooters
with their deft aimed epithets.
These ill-suited parents left
no chance of understanding.
After the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

None care to recall how well
we knew our mom and dad were
well-trained, spot-on sharpshooters
with their deft aimed epithets.
These ill-suited parents left
no chance of understanding.
After the venom and names,
the arguments ending with
doors slammed like a clenching fist.
And then, seeing my father
leaving home, a scar across
my heart, wanting to escape
from the Cadillac’s backseat,
I would roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I could feel the bird soul.

Driving my children
I remain silent,
peek in the rear-view,
seek their thoughtless smiles,
their innocent visage.

I roll down the window
and let my hand twist and turn
in the breeze, cup my fingers
to be lifted, spread them wide
to dive. With each bank, left, right.
I feel the bird soul.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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