American Car

American Car

She's splayed across the dented hood
of an American made car right now, the smell
of copper and cookie dough perfume from
Christmas mingling with lubricant. Her mom's
asleep, Dad's in the living room staring down
the blank TV screen, remembering the girl
he had with his cousin on the rip
ped seat of a primer colored pickup
truck. They were seniors, she said she was
fifteen, but even that was a stretch.
They only had one condom,
he went first, since it was his, left it
in the overflowing ashtray when he was done
and couldn't stop laughing when his cousin rinsed it
with whiskey and took his greedy turn.


CL Bledsoe

Posted over on Thieves Jargon