Lebaron

ode to the first car

a dingy red car

with a torn black top

and chipped teeth in the grill.

there's an old cassette player

i still make mix tapes for

and cruise around

to bizarre compliations

of the Beatles, Ozzy Osbourne, and Hank Williams Jr.

i reach the little house on the corner

of Robin and Bluebird,

and i'm hoping

she'll be out in the yard

mowing the lawn

in cut off jean shorts

and a sweaty gray tank top.

if this were a perfect world,

she'd hop in and beg for a ride,

but my foot just slips the pedal

a little harder,

and i'm rounding the bend down the street

before she realizes i passed by

for the second time that week.