Saturday Errands
The heavy traffic of downtown
Seems dreamlike enough
That I cannot determine its weight.
We drove slowly up Pike Street hill,
My father's left foot always on
the clutch,
Right moving neatly from brake to
gas.
Two lanes of one way traffic,
Parking on both sides;
We parked on the street, further
down.
I hated haircuts, still do,
But enjoyed drug store milkshakes,
And walking the full streets.
I loved the car, 55 Ford,
Spotless, garage kept, bought almost
new,
Because he seemed to love it.
Ten years old and rust-pitted, he
sold it,
And I almost cried,
Seeing how easily old love was let
go.
4/14/2000
