Operation 6:49 has just begun but we are already running late.
Dollar store sunglasses, detours, Ogden Avenue.
It’s thirty degrees out, but they
insist on opening the windows.
Hot flashes, seat warmers, the windows go up.

The inconsistency of temperatures
cause a fog to drift over us; giving reason to
use the defroster. We trace secret messages
over the glass, they fade only to appear
the next time this occurs.

A discussion erupts. The four-to-one
girl-boy ratio is evident. The
confidentiality agreement has been kept and broken
too many times to count--undisclosed information
is mentioned while music circulates throughout the car.

Conversation is broken, but it does not faze us.
We turn cruise control on and tune
ourselves into each other between
shotgun, the glove compartment,
hydroplaning and open windows.

It is here that the five of us find connection. If we wanted
to hide our thoughts, we couldn’t. We recognize the time
and speed limits and road rules are not always meant to be
followed. We arrive at our destination on time,