An SUV blocks my drivewayan obstacle
to the ease of getawayfrom my house and garagenear a busy churchin a gorgeous black suburb.Call the police anddon’t wait, interrogate
everyone and the flowers toowhite rose of the churchred rose of mine and
one stubborn navy SUV.Stewardship and right-of-wayentitlement with mortgageand school tax andinsurance and interestwith no parking no trespassing—or else why bother?
Such an asshole, I sweartoo close to a church member’sdaughter and whoa!
colors swirl around memuddying the red rageflowing from my ears.I am white andmy house is brickas the church andmy car is Koreana robin’s-egg bluestick-shift standard.The day is yellowand redder than redas frustration growsI cannot remember why
I wanted to get out
just the inconvenience.Offensive to defensive
my fence protects allbut my driveway andI don’t even wonderhow privileged I ought to
be because I am me andLucky living in this localethat uses words instead ofbullets even when I amthe mean one and—lookingaround— see nothingbut kindness and thoughtfulness.Calming down, calmdown the lady, calm—and as if on cuea neighbor woman emergesand drives her car away whilewe—them and me—wewho look on are speechless.She had no right! We reachconsensus without even tryingas the red rage retreats to my earsand I see through clearbrown eyes so when someonelaughs I sit near and smile too.
Posted for Corey's
at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast