Monday, November 26, 2007

Charles Hansmann: POSTCARD

We sit in the back, each with an arm crooked out a window, miles on end, not passing a word. Pressed to our doors, undeclared, we compete: whose left

will tan darker than whose right? Ladybug

on the odometer, numbers flipping, travel trailer in tow, I tell you now, on this final stretch home, I’m as close to my sister as I seem to know how, leaning

as far from her arm as this Ford will allow.

by Charles Hansmann
Sea Cliff, New York

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