26th and Bloomington

I’m on my way.
I’m driving down Bloomington Avenue
and I’m speeding because
I have to get to you before your phone rings.
I can’t quite make the light at 26th Street and have to stop.
This is your reprieve.
It gives you an extra three minutes of just another day shift
before everything changes.

The sky is pearl-gray and a man is smoking at the bus stop
and I’m sorry we couldn’t save your dad.
He was too smart and too sad
and now he’s on the other side.
But we’re still here
and you’re still here
and when you’re ready, you could be with us.
We could be your family now.
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