(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.