Everything looks fine on the outside, drivable—
like the car’ll start. The fuse box melted,
leaking energy. There’s nothing left. The battery died,
but if I try, there’s just enough to turn on the lights.
I dreamed we lived in a house that was sinking,
and we met in the middle of a downward slope.
I tried to show you the danger of losing a load-bearing wall.
I don’t know much about construction, but my father did.
He built houses, stores—he built a Walmart by where I was raised.
What would Daddy say about the house in my dream?
You didn’t notice the decline, even when I tried to remind you:
We can’t make love on a fractured foundation.
It’s all in the frame: Take this car. It’s rotted on the bottom,
so weak I was scared to touch it. Everything looks fine
on the outside, maroon paint, shiny Ford emblem.
But it’s a goblin, a parts pit, a lawn ornament.
I open the trunk and find water, roaches.
They run the way I do, scurry away from the light.
I would like to tell you we’re standing on broken boards,
but when I speak, you don’t seem to listen—you turn away.
Of course I could leave. I could drive clear across the country
to Ojai. I could move there, drive my truck there.
I remember being so tired I thought I’d drive west
through all of Texas, then north all the way to Seattle.
I never made it past Cocoa, though, because that was the day I met you.
I thought I could confide in you, but now I’m afraid
of the cracks, the broken frame. I sit motionless like this car
when you say you don’t believe me—
The user manual has pages missing. I kept all the insurance
cards, pried off the logo, took all the mirrors.
I like to look for the faces of past drivers inside them:
Grandma, my mother, my brother, me.
We all, at one time, took care of this machine. The tow truck
comes in the rain. I help the driver load it onto the bed;
he places cash in my hand. With the car gone, all that’s left are
deep cuts in the dirt from the tires.
I sit in my truck and cry. We look fine on the outside,
drivable, but I cannot speak. I peer into my mirrors,
clean the glass. Will the day come when you’ll finally hear me?
I clutch my key. I’ve thought about leaving.
