Find me Charlie Crews, find the minute that is ours,
that fictional minute that is now, but has passed since I asked you.
I am caught in a nanosecond when my car keys disappear, and if
I cannot find my keys, I am locked out of that fast car we both love.
If I locate the key, can we go on a road trip?
There is something easy
about conversation at 70 mph,
speech merged with speed, with confession,
with landscape and wind.
I’m unloading the groceries
from the Corvette, and driving.
Intercept me at the rest stop on I-75 —
the one north of Paynes Prairie.
I’ll be waiting, head against the glass,
book open to the last page.
The Drowning Gull
13