Sometimes we get empty
like a battered car
My first car was a truck that belonged to my depressed dad
Before he owned it,
it belonged to my Aunt
who is 92.
When I got it
my friend told me
“This truck is so you.”
“Really?” I said. “It belonged to my Aunt who is 92.”
It’s true. You can tell a lot by the cars people drive,
especially if they’ve owned them for a long time
It took years for me to fall in love with my truck
Maybe arranged marriages can work
I cursed it for years
My dad got a truck from his dad
just like me
And if I complained, my parents said
“This is just the way it has to be.”
“We didn’t have it so great either, so…”
“But what about progress?” I asked.
As time went on
I came to love
the smashed bumper
lock that wouldn’t open
“Nice truck,” a man said.
He saw me step out
in professional clothes
“Thanks,” I offered.
and I realized…
gave me power
like my truck