Lady Navigation chimed: “Starting Route to 123 Freedom Drive”
Mom had pierced a hot Sunday afternoon, screeching tires in June
Road signs falling away in a gassy haze, teary backward gaze
No parking place ahead, none behind, her minivan lost inside her mind

It’s difficult to leave a child

But Mommy was already dead, crushed underweight of Daddy’s hotel bed
With each thrust into that narrower shell, a shinier version of herself
Mom pressed the panic pedal further down, barreling toward skyscrapertown
Each streetlight shaped into an hourglass, lighting each pedestrian as his piece of ass

She’d left a house that was just a frame

Mom’s mirror image hijacked by her hair, her face, her eyes everywhere
On city buses she was plastered as newscasters
Store window mannequins reached out her hands – Mom had tried to dance but she couldn’t stand
Her body bodier than mine, Mom’s thoughts demonized

The GPS display auto blacked to night

The further the blue arrow got from the red pushpin start
The quieter Mom in her zone, her face turned to stone
She had left him all day until that night all she could feel was her child inside

Make a U-Turn when possible

Lady Navigation gave her ovation: “You have reached your Destination”

No porch light left on at home for Mom