we speak fondly

we speak fondly
of her in death. polishing
the chrome
on her long bumpers.
ignoring the rust and dents,
the way
she wouldn't
start on a cold morning.
we'll speak of
the radio that
doesn't work,
collecting static from
three states, no
music left in her
dashboard.
the bald tires have all been
kicked.
we'll miss her, the way
she wobbled
at all speeds,
the way the steering
wheel would veer.
we won't talk about the wrecks,
the tow trucks,
the heat that wouldn't
heat. we'll forget
all of that and talk about
the time
we road together
to the eastern shore.
we were young then,
we were singing,
we had the open
road in front of us
as we drove along in this
new car.