Claire McNerney
white, pickup,
headlights bright
after the seagull, coming home on foothill road
(dangerous and windy, 5+ accidents a year)
where initially I spared it few glances.
more after it disappeared
body first, then headlights, then dark
the next week it followed me
up the hill to my house
leaving after the crest.
the moon seemed brighter after.
the street stayed dark.
dusk, a winter tuesday,
it sat in commute traffic
before getting sick of waiting
(somewhere on main street, a spot opened up)
the new driver behind me’s mouth rounded,
I nodded and continued on.
never have I seen it before sunset,
though I have seen other white pickups.
I wonder if the truck possesses them,
plays with them,
lets them out for a little fun every once and a while.
who wouldn’t want to disappear?
