Candi's Pontiac

Sometimes after work Candi’s feet hurt,
and she swears next week she’ll
finally buy new work shoes.

Sometimes after work Candi drives
for the sake of motion,
tingling in her limbs
from the thrill of leaving
and leaving fast with
road wind.

Candi drives with the radio off,
singing Patsy Cline strong and loud,
and she imagines the whistle-rush of
air over the windowframe
is cheering her, telling her
to drive,
drive faster further, let high-rises
slide past, sidewalks slide past,
suburbs slide past
all blurred outside the
Pontiac window.

When there’s a crash on the highway
Candi shudders but stares at
the pink shocks of road flares
knowing something crunched and
maybe bloody might follow.

Candi drives and wonders why
it’s always shoes,
and never bills or children
left along the shoulder.