Car Cad

Two little red freckles

Where the rusted screws

Of my license plate

Kissed her ample bumper.

She thinks it’s her fault

For stopping too soon.

I know it’s mine

For braking too late.

In any case, we’ve met.

She says she’s glad

To be involved

In an accident with a guy

As nice as me

After that, I can’t confess.

Having been declared in the right,

I feign the right to be

Gracious and forgiving.,

What would she think

If she knew the truth?

Probably the usual:

That all men lie to be loved.

And in the future,

She will look askance

At the fang marks

On her bumper and remember.

While I go about

My usual daily reverie,

Having had nothing indented

On my car or memory.

Derge  3/17/14