Driving

Sometimes things don't connect

Driving



on a highway that connects two dots

on a folded map The boy sits quietly

in the cab his red head bent prayerfully

over his lap as he fingers buttons

on a battery powered game

I glance from the road to him and then study

the landscape searching for something unique

searching for something we share His mother

slowly smokes and stares at the passenger mirror

unaware of the distance

between point A and point B

She still thinks the dots will connect

while I softly whistle an ancient song

in a forgotten key