roadtrip
Matt Robinson
funerals of parents
of friends, coupled
with
my birthday.
i’m up early this morning.
getting ready for the drive.
the tank was full
last night
as i pulled into the driveway;
will it be enough to get us there?
all formalized, i’m wearing suits, and ties,
more often now.
it’s becoming habit.
you all
pile into the car.
our first roadtrip, someone said.
i hope we don’t take anymore,
not like this.
i don’t like the end, the let down,
the part(ing)
where you drop everyone off.
it’s hard to drive home alone.
memories don’t hold up their end(s)
of conversation; they just sit
and listen
with a distant look in
your eyes.
