by Holly Day
I reached across her mini-skirted lap
opened the car door
pushed her out. the joke’s
gone too far, I said as she
stumbled to the curb.
thanks for the ride anyway, she shouted
flipping me off. and yes, I do remember you
from that place
from that thing
I just didn’t want to say anything
because I didn’t want you to know
I knew you back then
because I thought it might fuck you up
you were a real asshole back then
just like now.
a few seconds after I drove away,
I watched her flag down another car
get in and disappear. it was a better car than mine
passed me going fast down the road
carrying that bitch with it
I thought I saw her face in the window as it passed
she looked scared.
I thought about
following the car
seeing where it was taking her
if maybe she needed me to save her from something
but she was such a fucking bitch to me
at that place
I figured that even now
she wasn’t worth the trouble.
* * * * *
Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Big Muddy, The Cape Rock, New Ohio Review, and Gargoyle, and her published books include Walking Twin Cities, Music Theory for Dummies, Ugly Girl, and The Yellow Dot of a Daisy. She has been a featured presenter at Write On, Door County (WI), North Coast Redwoods Writers' Conference (CA), and the Spirit Lake Poetry Series (MN). Her newest poetry collections, A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press) and I'm in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.) will be out late 2018.
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