Grandhands

Winding down the coast of Oregon
I slowed up and pulled off the road just to take it in
the drive so perfectly painted that it can't be true
I don't know how to appreciate it but know how to look like I do

I don't deserve this kind of view
I don't deserve this credit card
I don't even deserve the stream that's running through my own back yard
myGrandpa's waiting down in Waldport so I start the car
and we turn off to Albany before we see the first star
he points out the redwoods where they stand
but I just watch his hands

In the morning tiny cousins climb me like their private mountaintop
Grandpa pulls them off me long enough for eggs and sausage
I go out to see the chickens while my cousins clean the horses' stalls
Grandpa fills the Thermos, tickles every child, and then we're off

We drive into the sunrise
so I can hardly see
the most Terminator of sunglasses
myGrandpa hands to me

If I squint into old age, will my eyes be like his
falcon eyes with 1000 crows' feet
if I don't buy a proper toothbrush, and I keep with the ice cream
can I have all his gold teeth?

We don't barely speak 'til Idaho
NPR is on the radio
when he speaks he snorts and coughs and spits
what he says is wise before he says it

and here in the car
it's nice to feel nice and small again
hoping I grow into him and his hands