Happily Ever After
The Chevron sign glows above
mocking,
"Broke down again eh?
Well at least you picked a good spot for it."
The car that a few hours ago,
freshly washed, proudly swam in a river of hot wax
sits idle, its engine exposed
to would-be mechanics,
and passing vacationers.
No prince will rescue me here.
I kick its tires.
It has failed as my steed,
guardian and escort.
I am not safely home by nine
and the mother in me
blames my vagrant beau.
It's only ten o'clock, but my carriage has already turned into
a lemon.
