A one hundred word prose poem
A car backfiring transports me to a time and place where nothing mattered but the lull of the ocean, the sand between my toes, the cobalt blue of the sky and her. She gave me purpose. Saturated my world with joyful rapture, sensuality, and anticipation. And that blue car. A father’s gift handed down with love, ‘Reliable and cheap.’ The putt‑putting of the engine, the predictable bang, the puffs of smoke emanating from its exhaust. Tender thoughts arrest me, lead to a tentative smile that tugs at unseen strings inside my chest. Reliable: yes. Safe: no. She loved it, nonetheless.