By Tara Holland
Date: 13 November 2000
The Last Road Trip
The wet drone of the wheels
Lulls me in my nod.
Your hand on the wheel
Still, steady, safe
Makes it all ok
Somehow, for now.
Glowing orange ember
Reminds me of my father.
Smoke vine climbing to the dome light.
And I am an only child
Because my brother forgot me
In the dark.
With mostly closed eyes
I watch headlight streaks slash
The cold glass beside me.
I let them pass by
And I do not care
That they have gone.
Your face floats before me
The profile of a stranger I love
Eyes squinting as you draw
Upon that almost finished smoke.
I know your hand will stay steady
On the wheel, unlike the way it held my heart.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner