was of the generation that when
lost,
kept going,
kept circling.
to stop at a gas station
and ask
for directions meant failure.
it meant showing
that he wasn't the man
people thought
he was.
he'd turn
on the dome light,
and pull out the atlas
map
from the glove compartment.
he was a bombardier
over Berlin
at this point.
it was best that we stayed
silent
while my mother
stared out the window,
with a frosted
cake in her lap.
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