abum and jeffrey-effrey

i watched you grow
from below my nose,
to me staring up
yours.
i stared at you from
my rearview mirror
when i began to
drive;
now you beg me for
my keys
and we tell stories
about our rides
of distances of at
least eight hours
or more,
making blanket
tents in backseats
and sweating from
laughing far too hard.

you still don't mind
when i hold your hand
all that's changed is
you can lift me over
your head and
scare me with
figure eights in
parking lots,
with the brake
shoved in as we
fly across the snow.

i used to tell you
secrets
about what it is
to feel old;
now you tell me
yours with wisdom
and years i thought
you'd never hold.