Sitting in the car at night
Passenger seat cushions my head
Like a pillow as we rocket forth
To the north of the starry desert.
My father nods his head to the
Rhythm of the song playing gently
From the radio, fingers grasping
The wheel with the softness of
Flower petals. My sister lies
Along the back seat, pressing
Earbuds into her skull as eyes
track the ceiling, at rest.
Peace is not created, but stumbled upon.
The song changes and my
Hand reaches to switch it.
I pause at the first notes sung.
“This is road trip music,” Dad says,
Humming under the soft singing voice.
I nod my face to the side window as
the night goes on and the road lingers before us,
My eyes closing to count stars behind
eyelids, my soul emptying itself for the