he's still inside of me
with his hat flipped back.
breeze on his face
taking it to the limit—
the next car passing by.
I remember him thinking of me once
"never be afraid" he said
reaching out a comforting hand
across the decades
to this noisy moment, fraught
with a wife. two kids. two cars
and a tighter belt.
I think he knew I would hear him now
with the sun sinking low on the other horizon
creeping slowly toward the night