60 in a 45
by Kendall Benfield
12:34 a.m. on Walnut Bottom Road,
He shifts from second to third gear.
A blue reflection shines on his face from the dashboard light;
Checking his left side mirror once again, like a criminal watching for cops.
His deep blue eyes have seen so much and
Those callused hands covered in thick veins are already too old for his age.
That memorable tattoo peeks out from under his tight, navy blue t-shirt sleeve while
Dark, blond hair wings out from under his torn up camouflage hat.
Dirty blue Levi jeans, muddy Carolina boots and
A metal cross which hangs from the chain around his neck.
Goosebumps arise on his toned arms as he adjusts the temperature knob.
The right corner of his lips turn up into a slight smirk.
Left hand gripping the steering wheel, right hand maneuvering the gear shift.
Red 102.3 radio station playing a soft country song.
Sitting sideways in the passenger seat, I watch him.
Clenching his jaw, as he slowly bites the inside of his cheek.
Curiosity overwhelms me as I yearn to know what he is thinking.
He has told his stories, tragedies, hardships, struggles, and adventures.
His goals, ambitions, plans, and dreams,
His interests, fears, likes, and dislikes.
He is a living autobiography.
A chuckling sound comes from his throat.
Oblivious to the fact that I have fallen in love,
He looks over at me and asks “What?”.
My response, “You’re going 60 in a 45”.
He shifts from second to third gear.
A blue reflection shines on his face from the dashboard light;
Checking his left side mirror once again, like a criminal watching for cops.
His deep blue eyes have seen so much and
Those callused hands covered in thick veins are already too old for his age.
That memorable tattoo peeks out from under his tight, navy blue t-shirt sleeve while
Dark, blond hair wings out from under his torn up camouflage hat.
Dirty blue Levi jeans, muddy Carolina boots and
A metal cross which hangs from the chain around his neck.
Goosebumps arise on his toned arms as he adjusts the temperature knob.
The right corner of his lips turn up into a slight smirk.
Left hand gripping the steering wheel, right hand maneuvering the gear shift.
Red 102.3 radio station playing a soft country song.
Sitting sideways in the passenger seat, I watch him.
Clenching his jaw, as he slowly bites the inside of his cheek.
Curiosity overwhelms me as I yearn to know what he is thinking.
He has told his stories, tragedies, hardships, struggles, and adventures.
His goals, ambitions, plans, and dreams,
His interests, fears, likes, and dislikes.
He is a living autobiography.
A chuckling sound comes from his throat.
Oblivious to the fact that I have fallen in love,
He looks over at me and asks “What?”.
My response, “You’re going 60 in a 45”.