for now

the man
with a chamois
rag in his
hand, leans
against
his new
car, angled
at the curb,
red as a cherry.
the small cloth
rubs a spot
in a circular
motion. he is
content
with the metal
and rubber
that he has
purchased.
its value
slipping even as
the sun
rises
in the sky.
but for now
that worry,
after all the struggle
before
this, seems
small
in comparison to
what he now
possesses and shines
with pride,
waiting to
be noticed.