Back Where I’m From
I’m in the backseat of my own car,
Hurtling toward my hometown
With the kids up front,
Playing too loudly the first minute
Of every song they know I do not know.
My wife, their mother, lounges beside me,
Wondering how we got back here,
Staring absently out the window at a landscape
I can trace with eyes closed, winding back to family
For afternoon cocktails,
Our portable wet bar rattling and clinking
With each twist and pothole.
It’s then I recall being in my parents’ backseat
Forty years earlier,
Rolling over these same roads,
Stretching out to nap on the floorboard,
Moaning ‘How much longer?’
Dad would tell me forty-five minutes,
Nothing else. Then he’d offer five bucks
Not to ask anymore.
Alex Richardson has published poems in over thirty magazines, journals, and anthologies. His book, Porch Night on Walnut Street, came out on Plainview Press in 2007. He teaches English at Limestone University.