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.