Drivin' Some

i make a lousy passenger

alternating between doze and gripe,

forcing you to your folk ballad playlist, to blink back tears.

i am the worst; annoyed, but clench-mouthed till a tuneless song by a hobo about train hopping turns me feral.  

this song speaks to you,

matter of fact,

just trying to get someplace;

silent, we move along the parkway’s staccato of red taillights to home.

this, my apology, comes as no surprise, and out of order

you already know i am imperfect and love you imperfectly,

and i already know i was never not forgiven.