My father wants to drive.
Maybe an old Lincoln, tool around town,
Pipe clenched between gums.
He wants to stop at a drive-thru,
eat a burger if he has a mind to,
listen to talk radio with a dog in the back seat.
My father wants to accelerate,
smoothly merge, blinkers blinking,
elbow propped in the window.
As if it were still summer,
and mind and body agreed: now,
Here’s a man who can drive.
***
Kristina Hall is a recovering standup comic. “Wish” is the first poem she ever wrote.
