The Green BMW
by Karen Stromberg

My son, who owns no car of his own,
and disappears for days at a time,
always reappears for family holidays
and sometimes just to say hi.
Often, he arrives in a light green BMW,
an older car, well cared for,
the faded paint carrying a sheen,
lots of life left in the tires.
I’ve peeked through its windows
and seen the glow of cream-colored leather
which compliments the green
in a homey, guy sort of way.
When he drives off
I notice how it sits squarely on the road
like it knows what it’s doing,
like it knows where it’s going.

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