Shawn L. Bird

On a non-stop eight hour drive,

we paused for fuel.

“What?” you asked

As you intercepted smirks

passed over your head,

when you climbed into the back seat

after the gas station bathroom break.

“Nothing,” we said, as we pulled

back onto the highway.

Even though your sister had been

traumatized when I left her

standing in the driveway as we tore off to the bus stop

that time,

while you waved at her from the back seat

and waited for me to notice,

this time

when your dad slammed the car door,

buckled up,

and drove away,

destination in his mind,

she was the one who said,

“Missing anyone?”

so when you climbed into the car,

you never even knew

you’d ever been left behind.