Maroon Pride

Her armrest rumbled loose,
His maroon pride: “This is how a real engine sounds.”
Leather, dusty as an old man’s couch,
My eyes tighten against wheezy vents.

Second gear jabs my ears,
Skull shuddering
Throb of oxygen,
Ribcage resists.

Teeth set stiff as a Cheshire cat,
Laughing at his trophy: “My brain hurts,
Where’s the window button?”
Air’s escape relieves some.

When her muffler grates
He ‘hi-fives’ his mates!
Vintage Prestige Vehicles
Are still old cars.


Leanne Margaret © 2015

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