Tiffany A. Ko
Breath of the car rumbles through its
metal-framed body. Rattles the seats; vibrates the
steering wheel under my fingers
grasped around it like thin wire twining
‘round and around.
The car lurches, gasps, labors,
crawling on its four wheels,
steadily making its way ‘round the
block looking for a place to park.
A man slinks by,
brick in hand. The whites
of his eyes swallowing up
the blacks of the iris.
He smiles and the
corners of his mouth search
for ears hiding beneath hair.
I jerk the car in reverse.
White teeth gleams as he
tests the weight of the brick. Bobbing
it up and down, up and down. I trace it
with my eyes, and consider turning the car around.
The brick is airborne before
my foot eases from the break
and lands on the hood with a heavy
thud, curling metal beneath it.
Car metal groans, those
grating sounds vibrate up to the
steering wheel. Pings through those
spindly fingers of mine.
I stare into the eyes of the man as I
put my hand on the gear stick
place the car in drive and
step on the gas.