Twice each year,
we migrate.
As a child my parents drove
from Mexico to Michigan every spring,
then back in fall.
Dirt roads, blacktop,
Nesbitt's orange
and Stroh's Bohemian for dad.
"Again? For fuck's sake," says my sig other, encouragingly.
Sig Other is sober, stable,
uncomplaining.
I gift him this shared happiness
and kindly drive.
______
for Sunday Muse #128 and Flash 55.