Being around honest people, the

good thing is that they don’t

lie to you.

The bad thing is that they don’t

lie to you.

The two of us are in the

inescapable quiet of

the drive when I ask him, “What’s on

your mind?”

“Who, me?” he says (his favorite bit).

“Um,” he says, “I was just thinking

of this fear I get,

trying to be present, but unable to

shake this feeling of being unworthy of the moment,

like words spelled out in a language that

I can’t understand, that life is being lived

more fully elsewhere.

It’s like dishes piling in

the sink, and I think of all the other things

piling up that I don’t see, this boiling

over since my therapist said I should end the marriage

to focus on my personal authenticity.

But my Mom says to work it out,

to sacrifice for the kids.

Of course, our priest says we need to

commit to reconciliation to maintain

the sanctity of our vows.

The doctor advised me to prioritize

whichever environment

lowers chronic stress.

My attorney is still all

about asset preservation,

and Gary from work says

I should just get something on the side,

keep it all good on paper.

But, it didn’t work for my

parents and here I am expecting it to work for me.”

He shifts in his seat, looks over, and asks,

“Anyway, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I said.

An Honest Day's Drive

Ian Valor

Poetry
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© 2026 Ian Valor