Midnight Jack

Take my blood pressure

right now, Doc,
while my eyes are closed
and my head’s tipped back
against this cool blue vinyl.
As the plane passes  
through the cloud line
gliding down to Raleigh,
the rumble and shake
have taken me back
to summer nights
leaving Grandma’s farm
after dark,
after dessert,
rolling on country roads
with the windows down,
listening to the crickets
and the peepers
and the tires
crunching on gravel.
Get that reading now, Doc,
before I curl up in the back seat
to dream the black miles home,
and a jackrabbit races the headlights
to the mile line and beyond,
finally kicking off into the ditch
to taste victory in our trail of dust.
I can see me now, Doc,
draped over Dad’s shoulder
up the steps
into the house
and into bed

with my clothes still on.

“Don’t wake the boy,” I hear.
“He’s dreaming.”