It was a harrowing escape--
a rescue, really—when
she led it from the shopping
mall, out of the parking lot
and onto the sweeping stretches
of alleyways and crisscross streets.
It’s taken years for the paint
to fade, the squeaks to breathe
and rust to polish the free machine.
Now it’s rattlin’ down Broadway
struttin’ a tall order of beer cans
and soda bottles, beloved beast
of burden for the treasures
of the street, and constant
companion for frigid nights
and pounding heat. She still feels it
swivel and shake when they pass
the old strip, and they see the others
still filled with their trinkets of half-off
items and disposable things,
being passed from hand to hand
toting trifles and sickly sweets.
*Originally attributed to Michael Williams in print copy.
The Salal Review regrets the error.