you me us

You drive me to the airport once again,

through the unkind dark before dawn we 

both know too well.

This time, there is no wolf in the mood

for a passing salute. Your worn blue 

running shoes hitch a ride, back seat.

In case you did not know: 

I am learning from you that love lives 

in the quiet between soccer podcasts 

and NPR broadcasts. 

I am learning that love lives

in the rumbling gaps between 

highway mile markers,

in the spaces where our rough fingers 

come together again and again

to make things right when words are

wrong, when no words will do.