The Drive

We are three tangled torsos
                     sweating and stuck
elbows pressing, crushing


the glass comes down


   the      desert     wind      whips

round and round our heads.                                         


        radio waves
break the tense silence.

                           Skin pink from
                                                 truck stops
                  they glare back and forth
and she won’t
      shut up about Jesus. 

                                 Grandma has been
dying for years now,
                            first by the sea,
now in the desert
                          someplace close to

she’ll be dead 
                         when we get 


                and we’ll have
to pile back in
                  knees jammed
  drive it out.

                         But she won’t.
She’ll be dying
                      for years.


16 thoughts on “The Drive

    • See I feel like if she had lived on the next street it would have been grand- but we had to drive from northern California to east Texas every summer. It was loooong. Eventually my mom took pity on us and we started flying out.


  1. Great writing. I love the ‘putting the words together as one’ to give the idea of being squashed up. Also love the line ‘Grandma’s been dying for years now’ … it made me smile. Thanks for checking out my stuff, too by the way. Looking forward to exploring your site 🙂


  2. There’s something very real, honest, humble and wisely humorous about this poem. I can almost feel the relief and taste the fresh air as the window is wound down. Enjoyed the lay out too. Thanks for visiting my blog, and so leading me to yours:-) H xxx


  3. I followed you a few days ago, and I can’t stop thinking about your posts. I decided this was my favorite, so I thought I’d pop in to say hello, and let you know that it’s writers like you who inspire me.


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