Ash Wednesday

If I stare long enough
I see my father in the rearview mirror
his visage overlapping mine.

A smudge marks
our forehead.
A thumb sized reconciliation.

Now he is distant.
At the far end of a gray, unlined highway.
Deceptive in its twists and turns.

On that highway’s shoulder
the litter of broken promises
as tossed bottles broken to shards cut tread.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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