shot glass
Issue # 3 January 2011
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Nancy Scott

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Waiting for Her

Under the street lamp, our Buick gleamed
metallic green. In the back seat I twisted
seed pearls sewn on my white gloves.
My brother bounced next to me, whined,
I'm starving. Dad blew perfect smoke rings.
Next door Marquart's cocker spaniel
started yapping. Their porch lights went on.
I'll go get her, I said, reaching for
the door handle. Dad shook his head,
and honked twice, then three times,
then turned over the ignition.
The Roadmaster bucketed and groaned.