Ruth Z. Deming

At the wheel of my
beloved pre-owned Nissan
glistening gray as the vast winter sky
she’s my vehicular stand-in for
this aging lass
whose sciatica still tingles
under the covers at night

Why, then, do I imagine
a wonderful fiasco
while driving?
Look! my doors have
fallen off – or is it my arms?
Hear them clatter to the
asphalt below!
Next the wheels end their affiliation
I watch them roll away
in the rear-view
as they slide with delight
across a neighbor’s lawn and
settle near a nativity scene
crying “Hail Mary, we are free!”

I trounce along like a sled
on the salt-stained road
clutching the wheel
and laugh aloud
“This is the stuff of dreams
the stuff of dreams”
Only I know it’s true
As I turn up the music
and drive unscathed
waving to neighbors
all the way home.