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Racing To The Car
Brian Frames |
A struggling, shaking hand
wades through his open wallet
to fish out two twenties
for the uncomfortably smiling waitress
to make him some change
to pay for their meal
His wife grasps a walker
He, who can hardly walk
looks like he's racing
compared to his poor wife's pace
The way they raced in times of youth
as we often sometimes do
Together today, still racing to the car
Is that what love looks like?
The thing I stopped believing in
a too simple summary for feelings
we're not sure how to explain,
how else can I explain those two?
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