For the rock band, the Wonder Years~

I am my ’03 Honda Accord,
v6 engine, leather seats, double
dented bumpers, flying up Lock Road
-like a barrel hucked down river- 
careening onto Gillock, catching the yellow
at the high school light, barely skirting 
into the parking lot on time. 

In my 6 disc changer, Suburbia I’ve Given
You all And Now I’m Nothing rattles angsty
through the floorboards. I am energetic 
washed-up, yearning, jaded, and seventeen. 

I am a borrowed pressure washer,
cord strung through a cracked kitchen
window screen, coiling in heaps beneath
slipping flip flop feet. Water erupts, blasts dust
and grime from butter yellow plastic siding, slinking
in streams into cracked asphalt, blessing opportunistic
hackberry saplings below.

The neighbors are a showdow cast, pacing
their daily blocking, feigning not to notice
the woman struggling with the convivial
upkeep of her home. Tired, twenty eight,
and still trying too hard. 

Came Out Swinging slams across overhead
bluetooth headphones. Together we sing
of aging ghosts. Dan Campbell has kids now,
and here I am, greeting not-quite-the-suburbs
through gritted polished teeth.