Make Believe
The siblings who live In the salvage yard Like to crawl into wrecks And pretend They are husband and wife Driving to town On a Friday night. Some they can’t get into, Even through The flanged hole The Jaws of Life Tore in the roof, But they aren’t Interested in cars That no longer resemble cars. They’re drawn to the ones That might still run, Despite the comets Of blood on the dash And the shatter-stars In the windshield Where their foreheads hit Before they settled back Like newlyweds Too tired to make love Settling onto the couch To watch television. The boy always drives. His feet don’t reach The pedals and the wheel Doesn’t turn as much As he’d like it to, But this helps keep them Headed straight. Almost always The girl finds A tube of lipstick In the glovebox. Flipping the visor down, She applies it In the mirror, Her face floating Above the hairline Crack, and when She smacks her lips Like she’s seen girls Do in sitcoms, He takes his eyes Off the road.