You still didn’t have your license

- at eighteen! - I thought it was kind of funny

since I was driving at fifteen or so

 

We practiced in my five-hundred-dollar car

with your slightly bruised ego for company

The radio playing music we liked

keeping demons barely at bay

 

But I could really only think about

your peculiar smile competing with the sun

wrapped in a flower print dress

trimmed in white lace

 

I talked about old books, and why I liked them

to keep you from being nervous about your driving

You liked old books too,

but admitted you’d probably never read them;

although their weight and feel

still made you feel connected

to all the experiences you imagined within

 

No matter your troubles with driving back then,

you still seemed to find a kind of peace,

a calm even, that somehow found you there

behind the wheel of my old ’64

 

I'm grateful for these simple memories

and all the things you taught me;

about grace gently hidden below the surface

underneath the beautifully broken