Dusty Road

Just a vivid memory.

We walked out into blaring light after

swimming hours

in movie theater black,

heads full of music, dreams.

We were holding hands.

We gazed out the car window,

silent but the motor,

the passing air,

the memory.

We drove

through dirt, dust front yards,

hours of nothing,

but quiet rustling thoughts, hope

ramshackle porches, old men sitting

lazy in dirty white

tank tops, brown dust skin,

sepia in languid air,

going nowhere.

I soaked it in, like the music,

believed in that moment,

it would always be

like this,

driving through the quiet afternoon,

alive,

watching worlds float by.  

Author's Note

This is a memory from childhood, coming out of a movie theater, a drive, holding my Father's hand, thinking I always would.