when I take exit 45
off of I-93,
that sharp curve—remember?—
I think of that oil slick,
your new car spinning, flipping,
your scarred knuckles white.
You lost control.
I think of the silence when we stopped,
when the car righted,
our panting breath,
the twisted steel
and the fuel pouring onto the pavement.
It was the perfect metaphor for “us”.
Sometimes, I feel that freedom again.
I wish that car had burned.
Author’s Note: For Dave.
Kolleen Carney earned her undergraduate degree from Salem State University and her MFA in Poetry from Antioch University Los Angeles. She lives in the Boston area, but her heart belongs to California. Her personal website is kolleencarney.wordpress.com.
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