by Charles Troob

I wanted us to stop and enjoy
the view over the hill,
but you gripped the wheel,
barreled onward,
said next time, maybe, okay?

Okay, sure, whatever.

My body will stay in the car,
smiling and shrugging.
My head will take the next left,
racing through the pass into a new valley
where the air is fresher.

Whatever happens,
as we arrive together
you can count on me
not to be there.

A group of IRP members meets with Sarah White each Wednesday morning to learn from the work of published poets and from each other.  What a gift!