The Blue CorollaIn the morning on that hot day in AugustThe Blue Corolla by MahouTragicQueen
he persuaded me to throw my apple core out the window of
his blue Toyota Corolla
by the farm off 61st Street.
Idling on the turnpike later,
with windows rolled down all the way—
sweltering air poured in
but the air conditioner didn't work, or really,
the car didn't work when the air conditioner ran,
and we blared The Magical Mystery Tour and Ben Folds Five on tinny speakers.
Some jackass cut us off—
we held up traffic, desperately trying to change lanes.
In that same car where I waited for half and hour on the blue-grey, felt passenger seat
with the light from the gas station pouring over me
while he chatted away with his friends
after marching band rehearsal one September night;
where I first listened to the Beatles, Abbey Road on the road;
where his girlfriend,
ex-girlfriend, friend, girlfriend
joked that she and I were the ones keeping the windows fogged up,
and where he told said girlfriend the dumbest thing h