Not your dog or your sister
Or the sun beam
Gleaming in your eye,
I am just your passenger
On Highway Five.
It is summer.
My heart is shot.
We pass Zamora.
We are almost there,
Your hometown.
I cannot wait
To see who you are.
To pass the time
We laugh, we play
The alphabet game.
I kiss your lips
I think of pomegranates,
Find a song on the radio.
We sing until we reach the edge
Of a town you left and
Cruise into the center
Of a place that you have become.
Like a map,
You fold your hand into mine.
To make it matter
I whisper,
"Welcome home"
And I check the glove compartment
To make certain that the gun
Is still there.