(For SE & MB) A Private Poem
by
Anthony DeGregorio
I
Inside the car, only our breath, the sound, the
warmth, the
smell.
No talk, no pleasant rain or sun against the windshield
or
side windows.
No penetrating drift of fresh-cut grass bludgeoning
the
senses.
Only the thick assault of ourselves, the quiet
suspicion
Of another’s exhalation inhaled. Mingled
and separate. Warm
and cool. Swallowed.
Hands spreading against safety glass, against
outside air
Pressing in through the crack of open windows.
My mouth tasted of stomach acid and unease, French
Fries
consumed in a rush hours ago.
Hers of Tic Tacs and Cherry Cokes, makeup licked
from an
upper lip, the corners of her mouth.
The faster she drives, the more I feel I’m
suffocating. The
wind
Against my face hung out the window like a dog
making it
impossible to breathe.
II
Where are we going? (I am afraid to ask.)
I feel safest in complete darkness.
The inside of the car hued green with the dash
until she
shuts the lights.
III
It is then I wonder if this is how it all ends.
Or
begins.
Will we drive so far that there really is no going
back?
No returning to before I lost my mind,
Before the first time
She tried to drive off a bridge
To save us both.
Before
swerving
90º
perpendicular
To oncoming
traffic.
Anthony DeGregorio’s writing
has appeared or is scheduled to appear in various publications, including Libre,
Abandoned Mine, Italian America Magazine, Aromatica Poetica,
Bloom, Nowhere, Wales Haiku Journal, Polu Texni,
and So It Goes: The Literary Journal of the Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library.
He taught writing at
Manhattanville College for twenty years, and in another life or two or three he
worked in various capacities for the Department of Social Services, much of
that time while teaching at night. Prior to that is anyone’s guess, but don’t
let that stop you.
