The tow truck finally arrives to take their car away. It's been three years since they
died; motionless in the driveway all that time, the snow piling on top of the hood and
the autumn leaves rotting underneath the windshield wipers and the summer rain
rusting the hubcaps. A postmodern sculpture changes with the seasons. Scrapmetal,
I watch as the slow funereal procession makes its way past my window, but it is
raining and so I have to rub the moisture away.
Oilslick paints asphalt
Purplish-green mirror shines—
I try not to slip on memories.
(Originally posted November 3, 2008)
To contact Colleen Eren send an email to: firstname.lastname@example.org