The vinegar smell is sharp enough to sting

The vinegar smell is sharp enough to sting.

I’m wrestling with the lid, the stubborn thing,

with a sudden heat that doesn't belong to the glass.

I’m just waiting for the frustration to pass.

But then I see my hand in the window’s glare,

the knuckles turned white, an exact, sickly pair

to the ones that used to choke the steering wheel

while we sat in the driveway, made of quiet steel.

I thought I’d buried his ghost beneath the floor,

but I’m using his hands to open the door.