Car Rides at Crossroads

You promised we would go for a car ride

a road trip until running out of fuel

I would be in the passenger seat, you behind the wheels

my hand gliding through your hair,

the air

through the window, my hair in the wind

because the roof would be open.

Instead...

driving on my own, hands grasping the wheel

running on a half tank and broken mirrors

a sound in the engine is rattling out a morse code

through the morning mist under the streetlight sun

I sense the air makes the tires sway, lifting us up

At the crossroad I flip a coin