The Little Green Ford Focus
A man at the steering wheel
(hands on 10 and 2),
feels a sudden sharp pain erupt
in the left side of his chest.
Both hands immediately attack the skin;
he claws at his flesh,
trying to rip through,
so he can pump his heart
with his hands
at a normal rhythm.
The little green, rusted Ford Focus veers left
and hits the guard rail.
Now parked, he crawls over the console
to the back seat
of the little Green Ford Focus—
she follows.
Without a word spoken
(in a fit of urgency),
they take their clothes off
and he puts on a condom.
She’s taking up his time,
but he’s taking her virginity,
so she glides
up and down
to the rhythm
his heart
should be
beating.
