Taking My Brokenheart Out On The Road

A man with a pretty word could turn my head
or a man with a feather duster
and a vacuum cleaner in a million parts
or a nice enough part of a man,
like kind eyes,
to make up for the decrepit rest
or any part of the decrepit rest indicative of a good soul,
like an ashy elbow through an open car window,
crooked to the wind and whispering,
"Come ride with me! Come see America!"

Mary McLaughlin Slechta