It's Still Life

We’re On the Old Road to Spokane

I’m 10.
It’s a Saturday morning.
Early.
Before the worst of the heat sets in,
and turns the I-90 into peanut butter.
By noon, the road shines like ice.
Dad says it’s a mirage.
I say it’s water.
Mom says she has a sick headache.
My sister’s sitting where the sun
pours through the car window.
Her hair is tangled in trickling sweat.

No one dares to ask,
Are we there yet?

 
for twiglet #126 “Shining like Ice”