European Vacation

Trapped in a car on the wrong hand side
with a woman he thought he knew.
She was a good woman,
though one often testy,
but on this day
his patience was through.

She had planned to drive them
from Dublin to Cork
in three hours and a half,
but realizing she’d left
their vouchers in Dublin
they had to drive all the way back.

“How long before we turn out the light?”
she asked that night at the B&B.
“Well, it doesn’t much matter
to me anyway,
in honesty,” said he.

“What do you mean?
It doesn’t matter?
Time is running out.
We have bills to pay,
meals to eat,
hundreds of miles,
thousands of feet
to cover before
we’re in it knee deep.
Now when do we wake,
and when do we sleep?”

And he said, “Sleep
when you must.
Time’s what we keep
or what we should lose
or when we should sleep.
So turn out the light
or just let it be.
For if you can’t let go now
then you won’t let go then.
So why not let us go
back off to bed?
And if the thorn of a rose
is the thorn in your side,
then you’re better off dead,
if you haven’t yet died.”

And then he suddenly
started to cry,
and she held him there,
and she turned out the light.