The Back Seat
We were in the back seat, three and five years old,Henry driving his father down to the bottomHe used to farm before the Depression,The road not much more than ruts, as I recall,The two of us laughing as we bounced along.Suddenly we stop. Henry and Duff chuckle.Looking over the front seat between them,I see a car down the road a way standing, A guy with no pants on and shirttails flapping Hopping up and into the driver’s seat—Bang the motor roars into life, the carJerking over the ruts as fast as it can,Henry and Duff snorting, shaking their heads.And I knew without thinking what was up(The older boys always going on about it),And if, to this day, I remember the sceneSo vividly, I also understandI was not innocent but had tasted the fruitThat with knowledge had blinded me to the humanI never saw hidden in the back seat.
We were in the back seat, three and five years old,Henry driving his father down to the bottomHe used to farm before the Depression,The road not much more than ruts, as I recall,The two of us laughing as we bounced along.Suddenly we stop. Henry and Duff chuckle.Looking over the front seat between them,I see a car down the road a way standing, A guy with no pants on and shirttails flapping Hopping up and into the driver’s seat—Bang the motor roars into life, the carJerking over the ruts as fast as it can,Henry and Duff snorting, shaking their heads.And I knew without thinking what was up(The older boys always going on about it),And if, to this day, I remember the sceneSo vividly, I also understandI was not innocent but had tasted the fruitThat with knowledge had blinded me to the humanI never saw hidden in the back seat.