Going Home

a few mornings ago, in the drowsy state
that we get in when we feel moody
or when our bodies are suffering,
there I sat in the darkness, eyes closed,
listened as the engine quieted,
to tires licking the wet asphault
as the sticky sound slowed to silence,
the same sound that we could hear
when you lay across the backseat, and I
cuddled in the floorboards, head on the
driveshaft hump listening to the pauses 
in the hissing and the clink clonk 
of the turn signals till the car finally pulled
into our driveway