ART > Junkyard Essays

GN 581K

1988 MUSTANG G8

ALL black, not even a pinstripe,
just like he ordered.
The dark parkway was wet, glistening black
just like he liked.

He had silently listened to the news of her grandfathers
death an hour earlier.

picking up speed, growling engine power
skidding off the road
kissing the tree
instead of her.

He ran all the way to the payphone,
just under a mile.
Called and said, “I’m o.k.”
“ok,” she replied.