Such a sweet
boy. “Like puddin,” Auntie would say,
herself like pudding, sweet as pie.
He drove her second car,
a blue Subaru with it’s safety features,
blue cross hung forever
on the rear view mirror. He took it to college
and every month he’d call the family and tell them
about the city, how different it was away
from the small clump of homes.
Our family usually perched together on a hill
past the old rusted trestle out on the highway.