Of course, she never drove, but she’s here
at a Ford dealership with her pocketbook and apron
kicking tires, looking under hoods.
One of the salesmen is repairing a soaker hose
for the tomato plants.
This dealership is known for its BLTs.
Another is tap dancing through the showroom
trailing Be right with you to my question
about next year’s models
prancing down the runway.
My mother appears at the far end
of the parts department
eager to test-drive a blue diesel-powered F-350
with extended cab and bed large enough
for groceries and Hummels.
She pictures a B&B with lots of shelves
and will not be dissuaded.
It will not fit in the garage
which sits half-painted next to the grape arbor
where the dog likes to paw through dreams
on hot afternoons.
My father stands by with pencil and tape measure.
He likes to fish, and mentions this
to a passing game show host.
It’s getting late, the dealership is closing.
They’ve already turned off the lights.
