Ode to My Oldsmobile

Ode to My Oldsmobile

Night blue, the size of a walk-in closet,
so long, it was like driving a big fish,
back seat bustle finning behind.

My parents bought if from an old couple
at church for five hundred dollars,
the compartment between seats

a file of neatly folded invoices: oil changes,
tune-ups dating from the time of birth.
I tried not to drink, but compulsion

rose out of me, air hazy
with cigarette smoke, star light
I could touch with my …

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