While waiting for a man to finish explaining the significance
of the S series for the 2010 models, and how much
faster this difference will carry me
from here to there, I consider
my father’s soft hands
guiding the narrow bronchoscope tube
down a coal miner’s windpipe, then steering
the levee road back from the hospital
where last year’s tornado left
blue tarps practicing
the breath of hold-yourself-empty,
I didn’t ask
for a god to chew my food and spit
gently into my mouth.
Mine drove slow, imagining
how he’d trim those trees for better light.