LOU RASMUS

I can remember
sitting in the
back seat of my
parents’ car
as a kid,
coming home from
my grandparents’ house,
or back from dinner.
I can remember
looking through
the window at
the stars, or
looking at my
own reflection
in the glass,
and I can remember
not really thinking
much of it.
I didn’t question
who I was, or
wonder about my place
in the universe.
I just looked and
sat quietly until
we got home.

Sometimes I wish
it was all still
like that.