she had blue eyes
and the only damage
was a broken taillight.
she had tibetan prayer flags
strung across the back window
of her scruffy old toyota.
there was a splash of red
on the dashboard where
she propped her feet
to paint her nails,
a few grains of sand still
imprisoned in the bright polish.
her big tabby cat, bagheera
dozed on the dashboard
till the pickup following
too close behind rammed
jane's treasured ride,
a big chrome kiss
on the bumper sticker
that spelled out coexist.
the pickup driver, joe
yelled, what the fuck
you doing, god damn
hippie bitch?
jane stepped out
of her corolla, those
blue eyes ablaze
and said to joe, why don't you
watch where you're going,
you trying to give me whiplash?
or are you blind as well as deaf
from that deathmetal trash
blaring in your big manly truck?
is that big motor something
you like to think you have
installed between your legs?
well that was how they met.
jane was plain
and joe was average
before they both became
officers of the national police
in matching gray uniforms.
they looked like
elevator technicians,
except for the pistols and boots.
they weren't entirely dull,
they shared a small measure
of the chemistry of empathy,
voted for democrats
sometimes, sold her old
corolla and his dodge ram,
financed a new red minivan
on a seventy-two month loan.
joe still liked his metal
and jane still loved her chants
so when they rode together
they kept the radio turned off.
no kids yet, but lying in bed
at night, they imagined family
camping trips and soccer games,
pancakes on sunday mornings.
then they'd watch the late night
talk shows until they were bored
enough to fall asleep.
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