Creative Space

Poems for the Driver

Actually Peter called them limericks, but he, his wife and I had all identified as poets shortly after we first met.

That day their car was going in to the body shop for three days. I asked them if they had enough food and movies at their house.

“Food and books.” Judy corrected.
“Absolutely.” I added.

There was a tiny bit of discussion as to whether I should check in on them from time to time to make sure they did not kill each other. I did not. Neither did they.

She was a teacher. He was a lawyer. My wife is a teacher. I’m NOT a lawyer. We had so much in common. They have a place in Old Bay View butting South Shore Park on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. We don’t.

We rode together three times in less than ten days. On the last ride Peter read to me the gifts they had written; a first for me. Wonderful.

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