American life in poetry

Not only do we have road rage, but it seems we have road love, too. Here Elizabeth Hobbs of Maine offers us a two-car courtship. Be careful with whom you choose to try this little dance.

Slow Dancing on the Highway: the Trip North

You follow close behind me,

for a thousand miles responsive to my movements.

I signal, you signal back. We will meet at the next exit.

You blow kisses, which I return.

You mouth “I love you,” a message for my rearview mirror.

We do a slow tango as we change lanes in tandem,

gracefully, as though music were guiding us.

It is tighter than bodies locked in heat,

this caring, this ardent watching.