Night drags the road beneath us

Night drags the road beneath us,

father’s hands clutch the wheel

like secrets he’s half-remembered.

Tap tap tap—fingers drum

on the dashboard, a restless code

I can’t quite read.

A pothole—knuckles blanch,

tighten—then loosen

in the flicker of streetlight.

The car hums low, steady,

but the silence between his fingers

is loud enough to fill the space.

I watch, trying to catch the rhythm

that never settles.