My mother is driving the car

down the empty highway. I am 7. We are alone, I am in the front seat

which makes no sense,

I don’t belong here.

She is gone. I am alone, I am in the driver’s seat,

there is no one left in this still life landscape, the road is empty.

I do not know how to drive, my hands grip the steering wheel. I am alone and what happens next does not matter,

because the loneliness never ceases. The tears feed that hunger that swallows us.

This is not my dream, it is my giant ball of chewed gum, hitching a ride in my chest cavity

riding in the adult seat next to my heart. Like attracts like. The loneliness chews me up and adds

stories to the ball of gum over and over. It grows. It blocks my breath. I am alone in a crowd.

The narrative crowds out the beat of my heart, discord, affirmation of my

singularity. Alone. Always the odd man out, chewed up, spit out,

added to the wad.

I dream about being in the car with my mother over and over. When it is finally time to let go of the steering wheel I weep –

what about the car? What will become of the car?

Its is not the car’s fault we made the mold, forced the earth elements to change form,

tossed them in the fire and beat them into submission. It is not the car’s fault we are alone together.

I wrap little me in my arms and hold them tight. Bigger me wraps us both in their arms and holds us tighter.

We are nesting dolls, remembering our togetherness, digesting our gumball tumor.

The car is left to rust in that empty landscape, slowly returning to the Earth.

None of this was mine to carry.

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