The long drive home

Such a long drive home tonight.
The LeSabre was gone.

I remember when I first saw it.
My iPod was blaring,
and I was oblivious.
The LeSabre pulled up next to me,
Wisconsin plates,
the driver waving arms,
honking the horn.

It was a kind of signal,
the driver's arms,
because there was a Fire.
I saw then the puffs of smoke
and I could almost feel
the crackle of red heat.

I waved back,
pulled into the other lane.

After the Fire,
we saw each other often.
The commute seemed short,
we would weave
in and out of traffic
together.

I would time it,
eat breakfast at 7:09am;
into the car at 7:23.
Meet up with the Buick
at East Washington and Fair Oaks.

We would drive together,
make the drive seem shorter.
Once I snuck a peak
in the rear view mirror,
but my windows were tinted black
and it was too dark to see out.

I remember when I knew it must end.
That was earlier today.
Leslie Anne Levine was playing,
and I felt a calmn void.

In the backseat,
there were large boxes.
The driver had a forlorn look.
I knew then. I honked a final farewell.
I saw the glint of a tear
in the driver's eye.

Again I was to drive alone.
Learning how to drive again.
When will the learning be complete?

I skipped to the next track,
and saluted the LeSabre.
Its license plate said Minnesota
Knot Comes Loose began playing,
but that song belonged
to my ears only now.

No traffic on the road.
Such a long drive home.