I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for thirty-two days.

It’s a 2007 Nissan Altima

Black

About 41,000 miles; great condition

 

It’s not a Green  thing.

My carbon footprint is so faint I wonder if I’m here now.

I have not reproduced.

Those I love tend to die off young.

I’ve sacrificed enough for the planet.

 

I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for thirty-two days, three hours.

James bought the Buick Riviera;

Then, shot himself in the heart on his 37th birthday

April 9, 1996

The Riviera haunted by my first love and Tupac Shakur so

I ditched it for a quick $400 before the spirits claimed me too.

 

 

I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for thirty-two days, three hours, twenty-nine minutes.

It’s my second Altima;

The first one came off the showroom floor Memorial Day 1998

Champagne, hail damage though

Drove it from Minnesota to California right after 9/11

Then, inhaled carbon monoxide straight up; but, the battery died before I did

Sold it in 2004 for five grand.

 

I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for thirty-two days, three hours, forty-four minutes.

One life changing November afternoon, rush hour 1993

I hit the brakes. Pumped. Car still crossed three lanes of traffic

Accelerating at will months before, Possessed? I had said too many times

Mechanics chuckled, hysterical woman, ‘phantom problem’

Not a Toyota, a Mercury Topaz.

Totaled. Motorcyclist hit the windshield. Bounced off.

He was okay.

I didn’t drive again for two years.

 

I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for thirty-two days, four hours, 1 minute.

It’s not a green thing.

Moving, idling, parked doesn’t matter.

Snow emergencies, street cleaning, vandalism.

Ticket last week for falling 3.4 feet shy of regulation.

You can’t park within 5 feet of an alley/driveway.

$32 reminder. I’ll never forget.

Took the bus today.

 

I want to sell my car.

I’ve had it for too long now.

I don’t like driving.

People don’t seem to get that.

It took me fifteen days to knuckle up and get on I35W

It felt like fifteen days before I found an exit that wasn’t closed due to construction

I check the rearview and side mirrors too many times

Every four way stop an accident in the making

Another fuckin’ distracted driver texting behind me

Paranoid way before cell phones and tweeting

When all I had to worry about were drunk drivers, slick roads, my own fear

Responsibility too heavy when potholes, orange cones and detour signs rule my life.

 

I want to sell my car.

Still waiting for that title.

 

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