Saved by a banjo, she turned
into someone forever glancing
in the rear-view mirror,
someone given to sudden,
unpredictable spasms of laughter.
The amount of space
her arms now claimed with
their emphatic gesticulations
alarmed even herself:
how unladylike!
She stopped smoking & enrolled
in truck-driving school
because, she said, she didn’t
ever want to slow down.
She’d pull into rest areas
on the high plains, hold
the banjo in her lap & listen
to the non-stop wind.
I know her! I like her! She makes me feel safe in the world!
Luck makes you feel safe? That’s an interesting perspective.
I think this is terrific.
Oh, thanks, Bill. Sad to say, I had already forgotten about the poor thing, and when I saw your comment, couldn’t remember having written a post titled “Luck.” Gads.