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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