Loss of Momentum

by Sharon Fedor

Across the highway a station stands
next to the weedy vacant lot. And in that lot,
on two wheels and cinder blocks,
a faceless car sits, paralyzed,
beside the busy road.
Rain bathes bare metal and thirsty weeds.
Mother and daughter,
we sit in the booth of the pizzeria
with slices and fountain cokes.
We are silent.
For a moment our bodies soften
and we see clearly into each other’s eyes,
then, we stiffen again
as you go on saying
you never wanted to learn to drive anyway.