In his dad's pickup

There to pick you up

You watched from your bedroom window.

He parked right where last year

The maple tree fell during a storm

And Dad called you down.

In a striped blue skirt and a navy sweater

You flew down the stairs

There he was, and together

You climbed into the pickup.

He gave you his hand

You were small, and it was high up.

After the movie you parked in the woods

To do whatever you could

To make it last forever.

With each careful word, each searching kiss,

Every inch it took the navy sweater

To climb over your head of dark hair

And fall to the truck floor

Next to his flannel shirt

An empty can of Bud, and a tin of Skoal.

The world in a red pickup

Nestled in dense Maine woods

Under a silent, cold, starry sky.