It was cherry. No dings or dents.
No rust spots. It rested on cinder
blocks. The tires still had air. The
upholstery was worn but clean.
Better yet, no oil spots. Beneath
the dust the paint was still bright.
I dreamed of owning one when I
was in my twenties. With school
and a wife it wasn't to be. Still I
hungered to get behind the wheel
and lay a patch.
At last I have the chance to fulfill my
youthful dream. I dickered hard for that
sixty-seven Mustang. And now it's mine.
I shook and trembled as I took my
first drive. It wasn't the excitement.
You shake a little when you're
seventy-nine.
“A Dream Come True” was printed in Esther, No. 1 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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