How we used to travel.
We would pack up the equipment and a suitcase
and just drive,
map on my knee,
radio playing a good old song,
your left elbow resting on the edge
of the open window.
You always had a driver’s sunburn
on your left arm.
You wore shades and a hat and
a confident cowboy smile
and time slowed down and
spun around us and if I had to choose
a moment to live in forever it would be
driving deserted prairie roads,
sun beating down,
Hank on the radio,
you at the wheel,
me at the map,
the world spread out before us.