Hometown: Arlington, TX
He sat in the driver’s seat, blue eyes on his phone
with my hazel ones staring at him in wonder of
his neglecting glory.
We drive on, shaken by bumpy roads
and a blind future
in a 1997 Toyota Camry.
Slowly, we roll through a red stop sign;
never quite yielding, despite the warnings
to do so.
The tires deliver us to tracks
where the road intersects with them,
unlit by the broken street lights.
A train sounds in the distance
crying for us to stop. He doesn’t brake
but my heart does for him.
On we crash, unavoidably helpless
alongside shattering glass and shattering souls, waiting
for chaos to subside.
He was driving my car. I wouldn’t be
mad, but the mechanic said
that the engine could not be fixed.
I drive a new car now, two years later.
I’m smart enough to get driver’s insurance,
and to use my horn when needed.
Sturdy arms hold me, fastened
like unrecalled seatbelts
holding me in place.
Only eight miles on the meter,
I drive straight forward,
knowing more lie ahead of me
and the drive is worth the distance.