the wide stretch of sand

my father always asks

how's the gas up there?
how much?

he sold his car last year,
so he doesn't even
drive anymore.

meals on wheels delivers
his food.

his new girlfriend bakes
him a pie.

I give himthe run down on
regular unleaded,

then premium.

cheaper here, he says.
by a dime at least.
you should drive down

and fill her up.

I smile and think about
the four hour

drive. the Hampton tunnel.
the traffic.

the hotel on the beach
where I would stay
for a night or two

looking out the window
at the wide stretch of empty
sand

as the steel blue ocean rolls
on and on and on.

this shall too shall pass.