NaPoWriMo Day 3 - Danger, Nostalgia

This poem is new as of this week for National Poetry Month, but I had been thinking about this house and this truck in my neighborhood for a long time. But it wasn’t until I passed by and saw the spring flowers blooming, that I knew I had a poem.

Danger, Nostalgia

On my daily walk, I pass

the same house, its corner

yard filled with grape hyacinths

mixing purple with daffodils’ whites

and yellows. And always parked

on the street, the same retro truck,

tires too big for its frame, sky blue paint

fading into veins of orange rust,

and on the front, instead of a license

plate, a confederate flag takes up space.

The truck never moves. I’m not sure

if its engine can run. I’m not even sure

if it could move forward, even if a group

of people pushed it from behind while

someone inside levered and steered it with

neutral. I’m unsure if the lever is rusted

into park, or if it will always be stuck in reverse.