It’s rare these days that I drive alone
and that’s really for the best.
There’s a muscle memory that clicks
with my seatbelt and if I’m not careful
I find myself on cruise control and
blow past my exit, traveling to a
spring night from high school, through
a college snowstorm, a summer
My home in my rearview I
pump the breaks and flip my
hazards, gasping amid exhaust.
I adjust my mirrors, turn on the blinker,
merge back into traffic.
The ac vents adjusted to my face, cold air
blasting, I pull a u-ie
and return from whence I came.