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
