Riding Backwards

Poem

One of his sons was driving, and Dad
was lying in back looking back,
with his back against the back

of the front seat; and his son was
speeding, or lagging—getting
trapped behind trucks—but this

wasn’t much Dad’s business
anymore. Dad’s business—since he
wasn’t going far—was mostly to

keep an eye out where he’d been
(which’d been quite a journey).
Today it was Portland to Provo;

but instead of lying there
apprehensive over what might lie
ahead (having less and less

to do with it) Dad figured he might
as well be watching Southern Idaho
slip away—responsible for that.

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