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
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.