Stephen's car

it doesn't slide in snow and the windshield wipers
wipe clean, no long smudges of ice mixed with dirt.
the lights illuminate the street like they are supposed to
so I can actually see, and it just feels solid and secure.
I can see over the bushes at the corner to see if cars are coming
and if I happened to miscalculate, the air bags would
activate, keeping me from hitting my head on the steering wheel.
Stephen's car is so much better than my car with
the fabric on the ceiling drooping so low that it
brushes against your head, the cracked and pitted windshield,
even the safety belt is in two pieces, the old one
you pull over your lap, and the newfangled part
that secures your upper body, I wonder if it would
hold in an accident, it slips on ice; she's an
old girl is the truth, but she and I just don't travel
much together so I let her be.
I just wish she had heated seats.