Car Ride

Read The Reflector x  MRU Write Club in our list of writer portfolios or in our print issue |

Christina Jarmics, Guest Writer | 

Let’s take a car ride,
drive destinationless through
endless recurring roads and
fancy suburban neighbourhoods.

I will tell you my worries and woes
and you’ll listen to mine.

This a silent stillness, to
the perpetually passing lights,
dusted dark alleyways, and
glistening glowing signs.

Illuminated the workers,
nighttime crawlers and us.

Slow turns,
winding roads and the
GPS turned off, as we
burn the midnight fuel
with heated breaths, and
drooping eyes.

bright lights dimmed as
dusk overtook the night,
stars hidden in glimpses between
the pollution pools,
giving us an idea of
how truly tiny we are.

Insignificant existence,
but with you, I don’t feel so small.

I tell you my day with a
tightened chest that
methodically over time seems
to unwind.

You listen,
to you little girl speak,
bags pull at your eyes, beckoning
you for sleep.
Pain burns imaginary holes in your back,
and yet you listen.

Intently maneuvering,
shifting and turning,
watching my anxious expressions melt.

Sleep finds me easily those nights,
when we speak to each other,
basking in the beauty of the night.

Some nights,
the moons not there,
we sit as silent still statues,
when tears prick your babies’ eyes,
it was a rough day, but
you always make it better.

I wish one day,
to ask you the same question.
Key in hand,
morning buzz depleted and
evening snooze on the horizon.

That’s when I’ll ask,
as sun kisses moon goodnight,
with the same red puffy cheeks, and
sprung on you, out of the blue;

“would you like to go for a ride tonight?”

Christina Jarmics is a writer and a Club Executive for the MRU Write Club 2024-2025.