As just-hitched kids, we drove
a Model T Ford with a crank
for the engine, and a running
board. My big brother sold us
his old carriage as a first car for
a brand new marriage. Never mind
it was his hunting car, repainted
and restored to all its former
glory, a new conversion to
a honeymoon car. In newlywed
land without a pot to-you-
know-what-in, we had no aversion
to second hand. Now, fifty years
later (and this may rub-ya)
I've got a yen for a two-tailpipe
Jaguar, or a BMW. Though I am
not fickle, own neither vehicle
and true to my origins still
modest and practical, I'm not
yet ready to go on the shelf.
RACY is how I see myself.
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2011
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