A Smooth Drive

They've repaved Lomas.

I drive it twice a day, to and from work. Alone, now.
It's nice and smooth, now.

I remember trying to avoid all the bumps it used to have.
Trying to swerve around them and avoid the discomfort.


Driving right into the rising sun
On the way home. I'm tired.

Don't hit the bumps.
Ignore the lanes. Too early for traffic. Or Cops.

But smoothly! Don't jerk the wheel!
Just one more thing he doesn't need.

Damn, I hit that one. Didn't even see it.
Manhole cover. Edge right.
No way to miss that one. Unfair. Rotten.

How little I can do. How little


Hearing those little sounds.
The grunt, the sharp breath of pain.


Chemotherapy