On Crying in Cars

The car is the only room

that moves while you fall apart.

No one can come in.

You can leave whenever.

The radio understands.

I have cried about my father,

about a voicemail I deleted too soon,

about a dog that died in 2009

that I still can't drive past without

The car holds it.

Doesn't tell anyone.

Will be cold again by morning.