Cream colored curtains and sun-kissed sheets
fingernails painted silver, hair in a fish tail, or a coffee stain on her skirt,
a note on the table and a car can take them anywhere -
it makes her feel vaguely adult and terribly alive.
Ninety-two and rising, it’s the coast they crave
guided by instinct and red paper lines.
Windows down, bare legs on worn down seats
the tape deck crackles and her laugh resonates.
In the backseat, the strings on the ukuleles slowly ease out of tune, and droplets condense onto cool bottles
but, accented by the dashboard, past the glass of the windshield,
the world is spread out before them
under a cloudless summer sky.