A misty night, a little wind, and too
much black and slick: tough driving town to town
without a buzz. I bring a toothbrush and
a peanut butter sandwich, cell phone charger,
murder novel. Dog’s in back. I’ve cracked
the windows: he can poke his nose and sniff
the mystery of dark and wet. A round-
about, a lightless stretch, a flashing yellow,
truck lights in my rearview mirror. Scherzo
on the playlist, whoosh of cranked defrost.
To feel a rhythm to our consciousness,
to beat or meet our short deadlines: no answers,
only comfort. Then, so soon, arrival.
I kiss my wife at her mother’s deathbed.
Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review https://thebigwindowsreview.com/ at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His poems have appeared recently in Rune Bear, Panoply, and Hunnybee. Tom's website: https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com/