Every Tuesday at half past 4,
My dad yells to me to get in the car
as my mom waves good bye
from the door and we drive off
in the thunderbird.

We drive in silence, I know,
What my dad is thinking about;
Work, his life, my grades, my life.
We continue driving as subs
Turn to country, grass turns
To corn,
We drive on until we get to the city,
With streets lights on and skinny
Buildings, the highest in the world.

My dad goes inside, and locks the door,
I sit very still, barely daring to breathe
Too much movement and the car
Will start beeping.
He comes out soon enough,
With a box full of syrups, pills
And other supplies to sell this
Week at his drug store.

We drive back in silence,
Much like before,
Only this time we stop a street over
At the milk shake place,
2 chocolate shakes,
he pays and hands one to me,
never once thinking of the spilled
chocolate shake last week.