Back Down South

Back down South, where you grew up on Bible
and cattle ranching was where we were at our best,
our honeymoon period in the Texan summer.
I bought a broken up, once-red convertible
that roared us from Dallas to small town life.
It doubled as a bed and I almost forgot how it veered
off left when I tried to help you navigate the map.

I used to joke that the freckle on your shoulder
Was a cartographer (I baptised him Manny) - And the shadows
under your eyes in the mornings after we slept together
but didn't sleep were miniature elephant tombs.
You would smile like a baby and I would remind myself
To remember.

Now, every once in a while I pull back the dusty cover
And sit in it.
I face South.

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Written for Baby Rainbow's club battle challenge