Following

Outside of Gary rain fell in sheets 

like gray sheetmetal 

on the black Thunderbird 

carrying us tandem 

behind the white Thunderbird 

my dad was driving, 

his red taillights marking the way 

straight into a sea 

that would divide us,

but I with a map in my lap

perched stiff as a lighthouse 

on my navigator seat

telling my mother behind the wheel

where to drive, when to turn

until the frantic windshield wipers 

broke under the deluge,

and my mother in scarfed curlers

and Jackie-O shades, huffed and moaned 

and pulled off the road

by a fruit stand, also under water,

so nobody came out to help

as the white Thunderbird’s red lights 

dissolved in the gray Indiana sea

that was rising all around.

Published in Coast to Coast:The Route 20 Anthology, FootHills Publishing, 2018