Diesel and Blacktop

It’s not the secrets you tell
but those you keep
tucked inside
that little wooden box hidden under the bed
or behind the books on the shelf in the hallway.
What whispers
do you share only with your eyes and hands
but not with me?
I can hear you thinking
and see that look behind your blue eyes.
You have journeyed far away from me.
I reach for your hand to draw you back-
smell the scent of diesel and blacktop-
I hear the distant rumble of thunder.

13 thoughts on “Diesel and Blacktop

  1. A poem that accomplishes much in short notice, with the delicacy of creative projection, without spilling or exposing or announcing the secret itself; excellent take on the prompt. I thought the object of the piece was a husband; made it more melancholy. A grand effort regardless, never disappointed over here.

  2. I think every heart (mind?) has secret spaces inside…not necessarily a bad thing; just we are unique, complicated, inexplicable even to ourselves. Excellent description!

  3. Oh I can feel the distance, and hear the rumble of thunder……was pleased to see your explanation in the comments……….what sights long distrance truckers must see through their windshields………..

    • This was written for my husbands uncle who died several years ago now – he was a long haul truck driver and would stop by to see us when in our neck of the woods – we miss him.
      Hope things are going well for you & yours – smiles

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