MY CAR POINTS WEST

MY CAR POINTS WEST

for Faye

I tell it we’re not going west anymore there’s no point.

There’s nothing to see there but it doesn’t pay any attention. 

My car doesn’t speak English and it just sits there pointing west.

My car has sad headlights filled with rain when it does.

At night, my car wonders where Saturn is. 

My car sometimes thinks: Mommy.

Saturn is huge and far away.

And my car is waiting to go west. 

It can wait forever if it wants. 

We will not go west, I tell it. 

Me too, I say.

It coughs and coughs. 

It stares at the night sky.

Try to be reasonable, I say.

It’s not there anymore.

We’re not going.