In Memoriam

The summer Jeff died
asleep at the wheel
a half mile from his house
we drag raced.

Lined up in 9 cars on Rt. 181
at midnight, waiting for Jenny to drop her arms
then sped off over the train tracks
through the corn fields where we played manhunt,
to Jeff’s house and back past the soccer fields
where Jeff played varsity, to the playground
where we all first met in kindergarten.
It was the path Jeff designed,
the path we took when money or pot was at stake,
when we were bored on Saturday nights.

This race wasn’t for money or pot.
It wasn’t for the thrill of outrunning cops
or the adrenaline rush of doing 120

in a 35.
This race was for Jeff
who was going to be a doctor because his parents
wanted him to be
even though he wanted to be a professional
driver and race in the Indy 500,
Jeff who would never marry his fiancé, the girl
who took him on his first acid trip,
Jeff who died on impact
when his car hit an oak tree
on the outskirts of the park
where he taught himself to skateboard.