Yennie M.

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

weightless,

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.