Blue on asphalt
by A. Garnett Weiss

At twenty-one, I left my childhood
drove the two-lane highway for hours
in my new Volkswagen bug
(with monthly payments)

Sat white-knuckled at the wheel
as crosswinds, giant trucks buffeted

Arrived with a hell-of-a-migraine
Took the elevator up to my first flat

Surveyed the stuff in cardboard boxes
The popsicle-orange couch
A table with four tub chairs
in Mary Quant flower print

and cried

IMAGE: Retro orange loveseat, available at wayfair.com.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: “Blue on asphalt” provides a snapshot of my breakaway over forty years ago to take a job I wasn’t sure about in a city a couple of hours from my family home. Since I had to have a car for that type of work, to afford it, I cashed in savings bonds I’d received at birth, plus agreed to monthly payments for the balance— assuming my first…