Bitter Garage

Bitter Garage

The kids somehow sleep in the back seat
after midnight on a Sunday
universal school night
driving down sixth avenue
you tell me you want out.

I say like out of the car
or out of my life?
It’s door number 2.

You want to navigate a better car,
garage it in a better neighborhood,
daddy some other kids.

After the world got through with us
we were a pajama sanctuary
hot cocoa and chamomile tea.

We were a block letter
drawn solid that everyone else
had to get around, moat around the castle.

Then you told me there was no terra firma,
the world was never round
might as well undo the seat belt
text message while driving.

We tunnel home in the midst of danger
park in the bitter garage.
You carry in the kids
I stay in the car
and watch the long blue night open
to gun metal morning.