Ullage

I can only hope for smooth sailing
when I leave you behind in New York
with the new puppy
and the hustle and bustle
of superficial competition.
Although it never is easy to leave,
once I hit Grand Central Parkway
there’s no turning back—
at least not this Sunday night.
It becomes hard to keep the car steady
when the wind blows side to side
one hand on the wheel
the other changing songs on the iPod,
adjusting the volume and heat controls
while also readily available
to answer the phone in my lap—
I keep it on vibrate
so I can feel you calling me.
Another week ends, another week a drone,
in trance of anticipation for the next time
we can play family again.
Our hectic parade,
a procession of short visits,
New York this weekend;
Providence the next,
as we continue our short visits
to appease our hearts and our minds.
This mutual philanthropy—
an effort to compensate for lost time
and those Mondays to Fridays
where we long for days
closer together
and more mundane.