Sunday Drive

June 5 2012 

Back when men did the driving.

Mom rode shotgun

riding herd on the kids behind.

She turned easily, before seatbelts,

her long maternal arm

with its pinpoint aim.

Country drives

on Sunday

in the Buick V8.

His left arm

manfully dark

up to the sharp rim of his sleeve,

a spiffy knitted sport shirt.

The only day all week

I saw him tieless.

No destination in mind.

Just the open road

the powerful machine

the hint of freedom.

And the wind

blustering in,

too noisy to speak.

So I could be alone

with my thoughts.

And now

I wonder about the big bench seat

when they were just a couple

out for the night,

and the drive

was alive

with unbearable longing.

Except it was his dad’s Buick

and she slid tight beside him,

no call to duty

from the back seat.

Some people drove Chevy’s

some Fords.

But we were loyal to the family car

and still are.

Even though no one, anymore

spends a precious Sunday

just out for a drive.
Content 
with nowhere to go.