I Buy My First Car
First appeard in Synkronicitiy
I buy my first brand- new car.
It’s royal blue, and it’s a lemon.
At the very first storm
rain drips onto the dashboard
through the windshield weld.
The men in Service
at the dealership ignore me.
Maybe my large belly
embarrasses them.
They tell me
the windshield is not warrantied,
and I must pay for its repair.
I stand quiet. I think of my mother.
She’d call for the manager.
Names would be called.
Foul language would ricochet
off the hard walls of the showroom.
I can just see her kicking tires
as her voice gains volume.
I can see her getting into her car,
slamming her door, and driving toward
a new truck on the dealer’s lot.
I decide to move to the showroom.
My big belly leads the way.
Though my mouth feels dry,
I speak quietly and dangerously.
I decide I’m not going anywhere.
I lean against a bright red Charger
with bold black stripes.
Buyers wander in.
I approach them and chat nonchalantly.
I really wanted a brand-new car,
I explain. Tsk, tsk.
Then, a Miracle!
The car is fixed gratis.
That was the last American-made car
I ever bought.
Laura Celise Lippman