Visitation

Sometimes when the summer sun warms a late afternoon
I can still see her standing at the sidewalks edge
With her skirt billowing around her legs and
Strands of pretty straw-colored hair blowing across her face
“Remember,” she tells him, ”You said I could see them,
Whenever I want—you said”
He ushers us into the back seat,
And slips into the front,
Twists the key and revs the engine a few times
Finally he nods in her direction, then eases the shiny black Olds
Slowly away from the curb as we clutch our canvas bags
Full of crumpled clothes
And hold on to whenever I want.