Tag Archives: cars

backseat windows

as a child I would lock eyes with other kids

captive in the back seats of station wagons

hurtling down freeways

or slowrolling through clogged streets


I would lock eyes


trying for some kind of psychic connection

anticipating a future meeting

hoping that decades later

our eyes would remember a moment held between us

briefly as a hummingbird’s visit and just as sweet


when we were young it was easy for me


seeing the world from inside the safety glass of the family car

innocence was as easy as unlocked doors

knowing who lived in each house on the block

and who’s mother made the best cookies


I thought that everyone else was as safe as I was

in those days before I knew about torture

about abuse and cruelty

punches that split skin

and the weight of undeserved guilt


perversions frequent as autumn rain

for too many, too young

too terrible


now, in this future of punched out walls

I wonder what happened to them

I try to recollect those faces

dredged images from ripped memories

some of those eyes must have been shrieking in their silence

calling for sympathy or salvation

locked in rolling hells

moving closer to the next indignity

while I worried about a music lesson I hadn’t practiced for

if I could return to those moments

I wouldn’t challenge fragile eyes with directness

I‘d look at you obliquely and offer you my passing tears

I’d applaud you for carrying on

holding your head up as you looked out at a world

that held more sins than miracles


I would unlock my eyes from the illusion

I would try to see your truth

not mine




David Trudel     © 2015



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Filed under Poetry


You see faces looming up for a brief instant


As you hurtle by one another





Onrush of air stirs a

Sweet kiss moment as tons of




Careen inches away

But for an instant there’s a flashbulb moment

Both of you look to see who’s sharing the space


There, caught in flagrante are the nosepickers

Booger mining

They don’t seem to care that the windows are transparent

Engaged in some major excavation of the nasal cavity

While on public display


The problem eaters, pushing into their slathering mouths

Junk food packets of varying size and heft

Spew inducing confections only mildly poisonous


Reckless texters playing with the ubiquitous devices

Going down with all thumbs


Wardrobe adjusters moving the girls or adjusting the package


Dolled up dolls

Applying eye shadow



Looking at the rearview mirror instead of the road


Some of them have spotless cars

Some cars are full of trash

Or beanie babies glued across the dash


You hurtle by this kaleidoscope of faces

Speculate on who they are

Imagine a date with that cute one

Try to guess occupations

These days a lot of faces are blank

Inured to the weight of troubles

That burdens their souls

A lot of faces are red faced angry

Neck straining

Eye popping

Steam blowing

Red faced angry

I like the singers a lot better

Who are never off key

Belting it out with gusto and abandon

Passengers who prop their dirty feet on the dashboard

Or dangle them out the window

Likely for a good airing

Smokers chugging away

Like those old steam engines they used to have in the westerns

Some people are crying

Tears streaming down their faces

While their white knuckled grips

Are about to snap the steering wheel into pieces

Some faces smile back

Share a moment with a grin

And a come hither flirt that flies from eye to eye

Mutual seduction instantaneously

Two cars passing

In the night


David Trudel  © 2012


Filed under Poetry