he liked me

in the way toyota-buyers do, carefully

with no surprises

everything he said

and did

was just as his face-

manual advertised

the kind of pamphlet, you don’t need to open

detailing love for mother and dog

and country, a savings account

and friday night movie

with hand holding

expecting the expected

the airbag that would always

pop out

before colliding

so that cruising while absent

is permitted, always

life will never slap you awake

but when i like cars, i love them

not tea-love or breezy-days

or comfy shoes

but storms that move you to move mountains

where the world is more

than time-tables

and time is just another kind of knowing

what you always knew you would

when right came along

i wanted porsche love

burning brilliant magical contours

and a need to be as free

as we could be

in this one brief life

or i’d be alone, happily

footloose,

straight to the point, pass the crossroads

and the either/or

fumbling back seat mishaps

so, thank you

but no

toyota gestures wanted.

i’m walking