October Poem 12: Carpool Buddies

Into the car we took to install new

Floors in an empty house, as the miles

Slid by under the crushing traffic, we

Kind of talked Chrysler, Dodge, Jeep, or Ram. Then

The jokes. Like the green along the southern

California interstates, this side was

Seldom seen. His schoolyard punchlines horded,

Memorized, and embellished. Curated.

But they were the old standby. Remixed with

His own insights. He must have felt it too.

The old dog slowly metering out his

New tricks. But by the time we made it to

The jobsite, the yellow-black power of

His hidden genius had brought me to tears.





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