In the car today
you ask me
if the world is older
than Aunt Lou
whose story
you tell often
polishing it
like a jewel
especially the part where she drank tea
from a saucer
I tell you the world is older than everyone
and all the animals too
you get defensive
and tell me Aunt Lou
is a great-great-great aunt
not just a medium one
I make a neutral sound
that means you win
and then we drive in silence
perhaps both of us picturing her
in those starched clothes
her tea cooling
her stubborn old-fashioned face
and as we pull up
at your grandpa’s
you concede
that it must have been quiet
when the world was born
with so many cars
and no one to drive them.