A Grave Site with No Headstone

you’re there, even on rainy days

I stare out the windshield,
droplets collect fast
but I can choose
when wiper blades pass.

I wish I could do the same.

To be able to wash droplets
away, even on the rainiest of days,
with a flick of the wrist.

I am left with misty
versions of you. A place you grabbed 
my hand, and led me as a little boy.

Now, I do the same. I reached inside
my chest, ripped out that same boy
and placed him on the seat beside me.

I talked to him for a good hour,
about how Tinkerbell was real,
sharks can be friendly but dangerous,
and why it’s okay to stare straight
into the sunlight sometimes.

Then I grabbed his hand tight
stuffed him deep in my rib cage,
and kept driving.

Because for one second I found out
why you aren’t here anymore.

You just wanted to show me,
how fast 
my wiper blades 
could go.

I like 
the way
clean windshields
look.