American Interstate Driving
The highway is filled with large trucks
On multiple wheels, they squeeze
through the traffic, lights on.
The driver is a speck in the cab.
It passes us with inches to spare.
They are not kind.
.
A Decorative European model
aggressive, but so important,
with New York Plates,
Passes my ten-year-old, Ford
that needs new tires,
left-back automatic window,
does not work.
Just ahead, a work truck
old boards and shovels covered with dirt.
Three men in the front cab
none of them speaks English.
The car next to me,
A woman with perfect makeup
decal on the back of her white Buick
announcing John Henry Smith,
and date, 1921-1999, RIP.
He was her Father.
Author: Kathleen Carlton Johnson
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