Wednesday, June 25, 2014

A Metaphor

Before this,  I was the cool chick with the sporty car
Like a bumblebee savoring the sweet nectar of summer but flying fast, racing--
Like a blaze of yellow sun streaking down the highway, windows rolled down, 2/55.
It was glorious with black vinyl seats, manual transmission, and 8-track player.
And then Dad gave it to my kid brother.
Who promptly crashed it.

And after that everything changed because I drove the luxury sedan
Like a tall glass of very grown up iced tea, windows rolled up, A/C blasting.
Like an elegant old woman in pearls striding smoothly in automatic
Pushed to be an adult while still a teenager.
Unlike my kid brother.
Peter Pan.

Someday I will be the cool old lady with the sporty car
Like Halley's comet whizzing by earth every 75 years
Like silver mercury conducting electricity gliding over the road
Enjoying glorious freedom with the convertible top down and manual transmission

Better hang on.

My Graduate English class is challenging me in a number of ways. This poem is one of our assignments.

No comments: