Today's poem is by Zack Strait

The Lemon
       

The used car salesman, who is costumed like a circus clown, returns from the glass showroom with an old steering wheel. He passes me the detached wheel and I gaze toward the other steering wheels, which are proudly displayed like halos behind the tall windows. I ask him what happened to the rest of the automobile, but he just spins his eyeballs in opposite directions and shrugs. He already has my bank account information, and before I can debate him further he cartwheels away in his colossal shoes. I sling the wheel over my shoulder like a coiled rope and wander out of the dusty lot, the moon like a damaged hubcap above me as I tread along the shoulder of the highway toward town. No vehicles stop to offer me a ride, so I scoot down the littered embankment on my behind and march into the woods. Chainsaws whine in the distance as I take a seat on a broad stump and slide the wheel off my arm like a magic hoop. I pump the darkness like a gas pedal, close my eyes and pretend I'm driving the long miles back home.

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Copyright © 2023 Zack Strait All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission