A green van is in the breakdown lane,
smoke curling from its open silver hood.
A woman stands several car lengths
away, a child on her hip.
In profile, she reminds me of you.
If you were here now you’d be 55.
Would you still be driving those old beaters?
There was that mustard yellow sedan
that had to be strategically parked
because it couldn’t go into reverse.
And that Olds 88 you never wanted
to give up, even when the floors
rusted through. You covered the holes
with grey plastic mats. I’d lift them,
tossing candy onto the road.
I had to be careful, though,
to sit in the middle of the bench
seat because the doors
were known to ghost open.
Jessie Carty's work has appeared in journals such as Margie and Iodine Poetry Journal. Her first chapbook will be published by Puddinghouse Publications in 2009.