(I don’t usually remember my dreams. I do now.)
I am driving again. I still don’t like
driving. Stick shift silver car
not new I drive to the Bronx to a street that feels
like I’ve been there many times. I grew up
in Connecticut not the Bronx but maybe
I once knew someone well who lived
on that street entirely familiar apartment buildings
and after I park the car walk for a while up and down
the street I try to remember
what it was that I knew.
These are beautiful poems featuring a car and you driving. Very interesting and mesmerizing.
I love your driving poems!—could this be the beginning of a series?!
what a good idea!!! Driving poems. xxx