Thursday afternoon stop
On Thursday afternoon,
I drive from my home in Columbia
At the traffic light
on Versailles Road
& Man-O-War Blvd,
the air compressor unit locks,
killing the engine,
I turn off the AC & the engine restarts.
With me is an international student
from 11 Miles Bull Bay, Jamaica.
I have been her host family for a year.
We plan to pick up my son
who will help me drive to Jamaica,
A poem can be about car problems
away from home at a busy intersection,
as well as it can be about sex,
love, or a dead deer in the middle
of a country road at night.
Poets write what they live.
I drive to my son’s apartment
& his roommate calls me an Uber
that takes me to Bluegrass Airport.
This poem is not about a short flight
to New York, Queens;
it is not about blue lights, flashing;
it is not about red lights, flashing,
or sirens, sounding at the scene
of a wreck, but about a change of plans.
At Bluegrass Airport, I rent a car.
I return to my son’s apartment.
He begins our drive to New York.