Poetry

Driving Home

David Chandler

When we were lighter on our feet

our evenings among friends

were filled with coq au vin

and smoke and rowdy songs

that woke the kids upstairs

but what the hell, and anyhow

at midnight, pink with amitié

we kissed each other’s wives

and let our headlights guide us home.

Our long, ungainly, unexpected lives

ran off ahead of us, like frightened animals.