Jameson Street Blues (1)
by Randolph Bridgeman
a lone yellow flower half weed growing
in the driveway crack was planted
by wind and chance
it survived the hardier domestic hybrids
sheltered by our house from a north
western winter
it didn’t interest me then
i made nothing of my father’s careful
covering of the flower with his car
at night
his shift over at the factory
heat from the engine block keeping
frost away
its upper leaves dark where they brushed
the transmission
he always parked there
no reason to make anything out of it
so what if he idled the car listening
to the radio
smoking one last cigarette before
coming into dinner
he said it made it easier to start
in the mornings
besides what would have been the point
in playing a game with winter
that he couldn’t win