keep driving

she was an unregistered nurse
living in sin
on the other side of the tracks
with a man
twice her age, but there was
something kind about her that
appealed to me.
the way she walked on those legs
didn't hurt either.
she also worked the night shift
at the local diner,
pouring coffee, putting plates
of eggs and bacon on the table
for truckers and men who
couldn't sleep at night,
like me.
so what's your story, she said
one night, as the place emptied
and it was just me and her,
the cook in the kitchen
scrapping the grill
before closing. I've got no
story, I told her.
today is the first day of the
rest of my life.
having never said anything quite
that dumb, we both laughed
at the same time. don't leave
she said and walked away,
taking her apron off slowly
looking back, winking.
when she came back
she asked me for a ride home.
i need to count my tips
and refill the ketchup bottles,
she said,
then i'm ready.
I said okay. i'll be outside
in my car. the white chevy,
baby moons, dice hanging on
the rearview mirror.
really? she said, climbing into
my grey prius.
we didn't get very far,
the first red light,
when she reached over and kissed
me. putting her hand on my knee.
I could use a man like you in my life,
she said. someone who doesn't
talk too much. someone
I don't know anything about.
but i'm just passing
through, I told her and it would
only be one night. perfect she said.
I know a place.
keep driving.