I am being tailed by a red mustang.
I drove one once in sixty eight—
its front half twice the size as its rear:
seven college kids squeezed in for a ride.
When the back tire went off the road
on a tight country turn,
out we tumbled, plucked the car up
and rode on. Part of the fun.
Four in back: two on seats, two on laps.
The sleeker proportioned model
behind me turns.
I swerve from the past,
brake in the present,
take a left to the future.
c. Darlene Moore Berg