i won’t touch the radio
almost every saturday we
picked a highway
and drove with the top down
till our cheeks bloomed with
freckles from the sun
the wind softly pulling
at our cheeks and tears
pinpricking our eyes
the radio stuffing our ears
with every flavor of life and emotion
now i sift through the floor
of your car where
there are ripped up
white leaf pages imprinted
with coffee stains
in half rings
and textbooks that have
un-cracked spines
i didn’t know you were
taking chemistry
let alone failing it
i didn’t know i was failing you
it looks like you
had hastily kicked more
than one McDonalds
bag under your seat
embarrassed by the mess
or by your choice of food
the dashboard taunts me saying
i had more than 43,277 miles
to find out you were driving lost
more than 43,277 miles to
ask if you needed help with directions
you were always the driver
and now i sit in your seat alone
with a silent radio
– caroline indars hughes
