Highway Kind

I called him Ant-nee. He wore a snake of plastic vein within his arm to save his kidney. He and I, we sculpted plants. He had a way with succulents; did the driving to the homes needing beauty. On the way he’d stop for men along the medium, give them dollars, search their eyes. I asked him why for every one. I joked and said his karma was clear by now. He turned the radio up, gunned the engine, said, Who knows which one might be my Pop? One day, he said. One day I’ll see mine eyes in his.

2 Responses to “Highway Kind”

1. Kate says:

   July 1, 2011 at 8:31 pm

   Thanks, Linda!!

   Reply
2. LindaS-W says:

   June 30, 2011 at 2:17 am

   So much of a life packed in this wee but wonderful story. Peace…

   Reply