The Old Steering Wheel (Poem)

(Originally posted on my Instagram account –> @denaeculp.writer)

How many shaking hands have touched you?
Years of nervous transmission,
Headlight eyes on daunting road,
You the pliant tool, or weapon, for this path's unfolding.

A lifetime's worth of questions answered by the streetlights,
Answered by the marriage of wheel and concrete
In static song or winded silence,
You know all of this journey's music.

For one sunset, our fates meet
My hands glide in polite inquiry, your steady consent my anchor
These virgin eyes survey the ancient rode ahead as I wonder
Which of us will truly be driving.