It's Still Life

That Tomato Red Chevy

That car was work boots.
Creaked like knees forced
into bending at 6 in the morning,
and rolled around corners
like a tomato.

It was windblown
with the windows rolled down.
The bumper hung half off, clattering
as it sang wind chime songs
to the pavement.

Nothing ever happened in that car
that needed our confessing, but we
wrapped around each other, and
kept warm as fresh tomato soup.

Miz Quickly Day 19: Fresh Tomato Soup and PA Day: 19 “Confession“, and 4 words borrowed from Tony Hoagland’s “Windchime” poem. © Misky 2020 Image from unSplash and modified using PhotoScape X