April 14, 2012

Not Yet

When traveling with my father
as a boy, I would let my hand
ride the air outside the window,
up and down it went,
filling my imagination,
as I asked if we were near
our destination, hearing
always the ready-made answer.
Now with both hands
stuck upon the wheel, I ask
the same question,
though he arrived so long ago,
still I want to know,
and his answer
has not really changed,
not yet, not yet, though we
we are closer now, than
we were before.