my father's 58 turquoise
chevy
impala had some serious dents
in it.
driving drunk
will do that.
a bent bumper, a broken
windshield.
bruises and scrapes on the door.
I wonder how he ever
made it home at night, although
sometimes
he didn't.
he get them all fixed at some
point
and wash and wax
the car under a shady tree.
a pack of lucky strikes
in his rolled
up sleeve.
he'd make it new again. just
like he did with
himself.
a shave and a shower,
some old spice
splashed on his smiling
cheeks.
hot coffee. voila!
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