My white dress, veil and bouquet are a stark contrast <br />to my outstretched thumb here on this narrow embankment. <br />Thoughts pass as quickly as the clouds I see. <br />Like them I am directionless, except for the need to move. <br /> <br />Honeysuckle tickles my feet and my nose, <br />and I can hear that the 3: 10 train is running late. <br />Down the bank are a summers’ worth of empty beer bottles. <br />Wouldn’t you know, they’re the very kind I lost my virginity to. <br /> <br />I hear Junior Stanley’s formerly-orange-but-now-rusted Malibu before I see it. <br />It careens around the bend, AC/DC blaring, as always. <br />Barley 16, we used to sit three-across in the front of that old car, <br />passing cigarettes between Junior, Jessie and me. <br /> <br />Jessie would belt out “standing on the edge of the road, thumb in the air”. <br />That memory seems a bit ironic standing here right now. <br />And Jessie’s become a stranger since she left for college, <br />too high-faluten’ to even be my maid of honor. <br /> <br />The Malibu skids to stop, ass-end sliding sideways in the gravel. <br />Junior grins and hollers “your daddy is looking for you, girl! ”. <br />I throw my head back and laugh. Not at Junior, but at this: <br />He’s never even left the county and I’m trying to catch a ride off the continent. <br /> <br />Over a beer from a cooler in the back seat, Junior and I hatch a plan. <br />We trade clothes: he in my wedding dress and me in his dirty work gear. <br />I get behind the wheel of my new Malibu and pull over at the church. <br />And I call out my best wishes as Junior climbs the steps.<br /><br />hollie ash<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/how-i-got-out-alive/
