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

            so far away.