|Dad and me in Williamsburg sometime in the 1990s|
Dad insists. on driving. just the same. as always
though I am. also old. finally. and retired.
I don’t like. night driving. I sit be.hind Daddy.
like I did. as a child. sucking on. my long hair.
How gawky. I am then. angular. unpopular.
much too poor. to join in. on field trips. way too smart.
Unable. to carry. a tune I. sing shyly. Old Man River.
Anita’s. Going to. Get her kicks. Toni-i-ight.
The back seat. of the car. becomes a. dream machine
to read in. until car. sick nauseous. unfocused.
Dad pulls over. helps me lean. out the door. damn. gagging.
I’m sorry. he’s sorry. all is well. we drive on.
For my prompt
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2016 Susan L. Chast