Carl and Harvey on the Road

Carl's on his way to the last job of the day,
arm hooked out the window of the truck
laughing at Harvey's joke, a little
on the coarse side. That's just the way Harvey is.
Stopped at the light, he happens to glance over at
the car in the next lane. They're turning left,
she's headed straight but not to anywhere happy,
from the looks of it. A little older than he usually
notices, but he finds himself staring. Hiked up dress,
nice legs to linger over, picturing them
dancing some Saturday night, or
wrapped around him later, if he's lucky. But he
hardly notices the legs. What catches his eye is the way
she's wiping a tear from her face, and he feels himself
not noticing the rest, a revelation. She can't wipe
fast enough to keep her cheeks dry, she's that upset.
He wants to shout, "Hey! It's gonna be okay!"
but he has no way of knowing if it will be.
It isn't always. He wants to tell her anyway. Make her smile.
Her window's up, though, and the light turns green,
Harvey hangs a left as her car
heads in another direction. Carl hopes she has
someone waiting for her who'll understand, wrap her up
in his arms and kiss away her tears.
He decides he wants to be that man
for someone, too, and wonders when they'll meet.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012