Sunday, December 23, 2007
DOAEN 16: Driving Your Monte Carlo
I drove you to the airport to make your red eye flight without knowing that you wouldn't leave that morning because everything was overbooked and you were rerouted via San Jose to Houston while I spent my weekend driving around in your Monte Carlo listening to the Eagles on your killer sound system, woofers in the trunk. I didn't care where I went, up and down the street to the supermarket, to the mall acting like I was looking for parking without pulling into a spot. You left me the keys and a full tank of gas. I thought about burning a stick of incense or spraying cologne on the dashboard but decided not to extrude my personal statement into your silver NASCAR look-alike. It's just that you weren't around to distract me from the smoke-smell and it got inside the underside of my gums and tooth cavity that was stitched up the week before with black thread. Now you're on medication to help you quit the habit, but it's not going according to plan which was a one-shot deal to walk out hypnotized, smoke-free, a new man. We all want somebody to fix us up, but it doesn't always happen that way. The only way I want to fix you is with me, although I must say that when I'd finished driving around I went upstairs and discovered I'd lost my favorite earring, the silver one with the topaz jewel on the end, and I'm hoping to find it inside your car.