En route to her father’s home,
we chatted, flying by road markers,
about whether blue was a good color.
There was an aura of blueness,
uncertainty, and depression in her.
A spirited wrath soaked her face.
Sulfur crinkled her emerald eyes.
Rolling down the window,
she tossed the pregnancy test
into a forest.
I hurriedly glanced over my shoulder
and blinkered to the side of the road.
I exited the car to scour the trail near the 405,
scouting through the mess we made;
destiny dragged my eyes to the blue stripe
on the white stick.
She grinned through a sea of tears.
He’ll be named after you.
(© 2022 AC)