Elijah Wyman Girls Should Drive Automatics
Silence.
Like a high-arced shot at the buzzer.
Big city sirens
are drowned out by the suburbs.
I could tear out the stick shift
that keeps us apart, keeps our hands away,
and praise God for storm clouds
setting the mood in the month of May.
“Wait here for me,” she said
with a smile reserved for funerals.
“I do the best I can,” I replied
and tried and failed as usual.
Silence was never awkward with you
until we started to talk.
Red roses and diamond rings
could never take my savior’s love.
When your forty hours this week are through,
and there’s no one to drive you home.
And June’s skies are clear and blue
will we still be alone?
“Here comes the good part,”
she said as she laughed, “Read on as you may.”
With all the trouble I’ve had this week,
perseverance is all I’ve gained.
I could run away today
