his last day of driving

i knew the day

was

coming, but i didn't know

it would

be so scary,

as my father, at 89, half

blind behind the wheel

of his old Chevrolet,

asked if the light

looked green

or red, as he hit the gas and sped

through

at sixty miles an hour.

just missing

an old lady

with her groceries,

and a troop of boy scouts.

i could use a beer,

he said,

and told me to hold the wheel

while he

reached back into

a cooler to grab one for me

and two for him.

he laughed as he looked

in the rear view

mirror,

and said, ah oh,

it's the po po.

hold on, we can outrun

them.