Atop the driver’s seat I perch,
sun burnt legs dangling.
Skin clings to sticky worn leather,
smells like gas and grease.

All elbows and ears
I run my hand along the tires.
Rotten apples squeeze
sweet juice between the rubber grooves.

Sun hits the blue metal body,
heats the black stick shift.
Under my sweaty freckled palm
gears grind with a crunch.

Daddy’s sunglasses
slip down the slope of my pink nose.
I honk the horn as
he turns the heavy wheel for home.

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