Monday, January 7, 2019

First & Last Ride




First & Last Ride

The scent of pine
everywhere
& the sound of Christmas
                                    music
a one-legged vet waits at
            the corner for the light
to change, to roll backward
            into the intersection
            of Broadway & Oak
we shop at St. Vincent DePaul Boutique where
everything is picked over—

Can we stay close
            though far away
Can we harness time
            & stand still?

Lights twinkle, the
            shortest day of the year
We order an Uber—
            We are Kerry’s first ride
Ever? we ask . . .
He goes left, right
            Left, right, right
he accidentally cancels the ride
seatbelts don’t work
                        dog hair covers the floor carpet
We eventually direct him
                        home.


Early morning, we
            hug good bye,
the neighborhood sleeps—I emerge
onto the mossy deck, slick with rain
“I’ll be right down.”
            Are there words left unsaid, unthought?
Unobtainable?
We don’t live close.
The taxi idles, I linger,
            Smell one last time the pine.
As we speed to the airport
            Jim tells me I am
his last ride.
Next week he starts a new job.
He is injured from the war &
            Will go to school on the GI Bill.
I look back at the
dark hills. We are already
Image result for taxi in a dark forest            so far away.    

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