Moving Violation
June 6 2010


The truck was re-done
in house paint,
latex-covered rust
flat red finish.
The cheap brush shed little black strands
that stuck to the dull surface
like a bad haircut.
The muffler sputtered, shocks kajunked,
yet it would run and run
on empty.
.
The old-fashioned bench seat
was awfully tempting.
No buckets, consoles, armrests,
no contortions necessary.
Except for the stick-shift, that is,
when an errant leg
maybe yours
kicked it into neutral,
and we coasted downhill
picking up speed.
So that summer evening
as we lay cheek-to-cheek,
passion exhausted
naked skin sticking
to cheap vinyl seats,
the world moved.

And we could have gone on like that non-stop
gravity-assisted,
if it hadn’t been for that snickering cop.
Who spotted the broken tail light,
then cited us for unsafe operation
driving with our seatbelts off.

.