Stuck

The Buick was trapped, rather mundanely, in the slushy ice pile by the side of the road outside my apartment this morning. I could feel the sadness in her spinning wheels. I wanted to say, “Listen, old girl. I know it’s rough, being you, deep into your silver years, constantly plastered in bumper stickers about being happy. You probably just want some rest now and then.” But there’s no way to console an object. And I really just wanted to get out of my parking space.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s