Not only do we have road rage, but it seems we have road love too. Here Elizabeth Hobbs of Maine offers us a two-car courtship. Be careful with whom you choose to try this little dance.
Slow Dancing on the Highway: the Trip North
You follow close behind me,
for a thousand miles responsive to my movements.
I signal, you signal back. We will meet at the next exit.
You blow kisses, which I return.
You mouth "I love you," a message for my rearview mirror.
We do a slow tango as we change lanes in tandem, gracefully, as though music were guiding us.
It is tighter than bodies locked in heat, this caring, this ardent watching.
Poem copyright 2001 by Elizabeth Hobbs, whose most recent book is A Craving for the Goatman, Goose River Press, 2003. Reprinted from Poems from the Lake, Goose River Press, 2001, with permission of the publisher. This weekly column is supported by the Poetry Foundation, the Library of Congress and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
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