Hard Right

The light turned green, I spun the wheel

A little too fast, the familiar feel

Of the tires just catching, a slight sway,

And then my hands, they knew the way.

A firm correction, not too hard,

Just like a lesson learned, a card

Dealt from his deck, I suppose,

A habit my own body knows.

My knuckles white, just for a bit,

Gripping the plastic, a perfect fit

For the memory of his wide, strong hand,

A silent language I understand.

He's not here to tell me slow down,

But still, his ghost drives through this town.