Ask Me to Stay

I told myself it's only a sail: one ride to the water,
One handshake, one check.
But I packed your favorite blanket in the back,
Just in case.
Ask me to stay, say it soft and say it now.
Tell me the lake can wait, the truck can rust somehow.
I'll tear the papers up, I'll walk back through the door.
Just ask me to stay, and I won't go out there anymore.
Dad taught me the clubs on a county road at dusk.
He said, "Never let the engine scream,
Let it breathe with you." Thirty miles of pines and his old tools rattling in back.
Every mile I'm rehearsing what I'll say when I get back.