March, 2001

In-tune Breaths   ©

by   Alison Core 
 

The door handle's broken,
so I reach and open your door from the inside.
Icing from our doughnut dinners
glazes the right side of my seat.
I lean towards you,
like gravity pulls our hearts together,
as we wobble down the road.
Dave Matthews plays on; it's never off--
constant as our in-tune breaths
as your red Lumina spits and coughs down the road.
Your hand tapping to the music on the glazed stick shift--
my sign to pick it up--
warmly envelops my hand like only one is there.
"How was work?" I ask for the thousandth time.
"Work fun?" you answer, and purr as I scratch your head--
hair intermingling with my fingers
like intertwining souls
as Dave Matthews plays on
and we wobble down the road.
 

Originally published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
"Award Winning Poems, 2000" 
Used with the permission of the Poet.

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