Alone at the Wheel

Her dad drops into a bar
to wet his whistle with beer.
Penina waits in the big car,
on her cheek, a salty tear.

“I won’t last last, my lass,”
he laughs.
“Take the helm,
and give it a little gas.”

Alone at the wheel, she sees
the bar door swing free.
She falls asleep while he
flirts and stills the floozies.

Smelling of smoke and beer,
he slams the door,
pulls the choke.

She tastes a touch of joy,
a wet kiss, a small toy,
a pink umbrella.

The beer has made him warm
in a way she could not.
And she meets a perfumed Bella,
her father’s friend.

She sleeps the night in
the front seat of the car,
in a lot down by the beach,
while her dad explains to Bella
what to do with a drunken sailor.

From “Penina’s Letters,” 2016, pg 87,
with a few minor changes here.