Who wouldn’t choose
the just-washed white of this Aspire
scripted with eighteen small
miles on a speedometer
that flips its lottery digits
beside the accordion-stretched map
we play into each added-bonus
state of our prize-winning
All hail Economy
and her deceptively large
leg room, her exceptionally parked
body, her 35-miles-per-gallon city-sipping
Bless her undented fenders,
her souvenir-proportioned trunk.
We are old and in love
with the non-leather seats,
windshield wipers that work
up a beat, doors that open each time
to AAA approval.
If we drive long enough
across this uncalculated country,
how can she not follow us home?
How can she not, remembering
the miles of our affection,
forget how little we paid?
© 2013 by Marjorie Maddox from Local News from Someplace Else (Wipf and Stock, 2013) and used by kind permission of the author.
We are living now our regrets and our failures, the ache of what we wish could be again,…
We touch one another with defter fingers at night. Rain sounds different, its steady falling…
Philosophers shilly-shally, but it’s true: you are me; I am you. This dust, these rays,…
This site is brought to you by A Network for Grateful Living, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. All donations are fully tax deductible in the U.S.A.
© 2000 - 2019, A Network for Grateful Living
Website by Briteweb