My old lady

ODE TO the Caddy

4y ago

The Caddy sleeps in my driveway,
Her streamlined body gleaming in white sunlight.
I run one gloveless hand over her frozen steel
That numbs my calloused fingertips.

I swing open the driver’s side door,
Easing into the sunken plush seat.
She receives me with a drowsy sigh.
A felt tree hangs from her rearview mirror,
Still vaguely smelling of cheap scent
That makes my husband queasy.

I turn my key in the ignition.
The engine rumbles like distant thunder
Before settling into a hum that vibrates my bones.
Like an eager dog she silently begs
Me to give her the command to “go.”

Music trickles from the only working speaker,
Pooling in my left eardrum.
My fingers slip into the well-worn valleys
On the greased leather steering wheel.

Press on the brake.
Shift into drive.
Release the brake.

Together we drift through quiet winter streets.
I feel the whir of pavement beneath her tires,
Every crack, every pothole, every bump.
We are one,
And we are flying.


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