The gas gauge of my dad’s red Oldsmobile stayed on empty-- a risky thrill every time he gripped the ripped red leather of the steering wheel
the chance of being stranded the what if’s my sister and I turned around grew behind our eyelids while we waited for the slowdown
No one asked him to fill it up we just trusted like he trusted-- dad loved his rusty red Oldsmobile I never thought in terms of love
I only knew three dollars here and five dollars there was what it took to get to sunrises sunsets and back and never be left stranded
Wayne Benson is a poet from Easton, Pennsylvania, and the current poetry editor of River and South Review. He is an MFA candidate with the Maslow Family Graduate Program in Creative Writing at Wilkes University, and currently has poems published in Crêpe & Penn Magazine and Mineral Lit Magazine.