You can come for a ride with me,
but it’s not going to be like most rides.
We’ll find the old dirt roads with
not much to see.
Woods, streams, mountains, and more
dirt roads steadied with ruts and bumps
and dust. The windows will be down.
Wind will stream inside one and out the other.
And the conversation might be about
who visited who in which dream and what
had been said and the possibilities of why.
Or, we won’t talk. Instead we might listen
to the chirping of the birds. Or, if we’re lucky
the rumbling of a thunderstorm will tickle
our imaginations until finally it hits and
the dusty dirt road becomes a slippery mud pit.
If the storm is bad enough, and the wind strong enough,
a few branches might come down, even a tree.
That’s OK though. We have rope and a chain saw,
and besides, the story just got better.
Thanks for coming on these rides, Dad.
Even though you’re gone,
I still talk with you.
Sorry about the yelling-
Sometimes you do feel a bit too far away.