I couldn’t help,
When seeing a boy pull up to the house across the street,
That nagging feeling of lost youth.
The rusty fastback sputtered by the curb.
He opened the door,
Grabbed her books,
Held her hand,
Ushered her up the steps,
Another day at school on the books,
The semester speeding to a close.
I recall that heady surety,
The license that my license bought,
But only one image comes to mind:
Cruising, smoking,
Burning rubber at Lincoln and Main.
The back seat suddenly in smoke.
They picked her up at the station
While I feigned interest in my mother's smoldering car.
I remembered her framed in the back window,
As I noticed the couple’s lingering touch.
Floating toward his grumbling car
He blew her a kiss as he peeled off.
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