yesterday’s grime cannot be cleaned
as i spray the blue liquid,
wipe it away with squeaky wipers.
i watch as the face of my car
lets drip down its edges
slow, almost still tears
sun streams through windblown clouds,
not pink today, a soft yellow,
and my car shakes
as the tears slide down our faces,
my sad songs so loud
i cannot hear the outside howling
i almost lose control,
riding along the edge of the lane,
but i pull her back
(i pull myself back)
turn the wipers one more time,
grime only along the edges now
we settle into our spot
(same as every day)
and she grumbles to sleep
as i step inside
to everything i must face,
only to see more tears
slide down the edges
of another’s face.
i ask myself,
walking along
the lonely, crowded corridors,
when will the edges be clear,
when will our faces bear smiles?
but as i edge along
the middle school jubilance,
i can’t quite face the answer
