57 Chevy

The car fins
have a thought.

Nineteen fifty
something.

The fins
think they are whispering.

Rounding a corner,
they peek first.

The world
is not such a bad place

except that
it is.

Five arroyos from home
don't make one road,

bridge
bent and cluttered.

And if those car fins
were you?

In the backseat
botched,

gas pedal
to the floor of the sea.