The Detroit It Would Takeby Sara Tracey after Becca Klaver’s “The Mexico It Would Take” From rubber city to motor town, every exit ramp was a garden of tires. On the balcony of your new apartment, we watched hookers work the Shamrock Motel. The blond was in and out before you finished your glass of Boone’s. The redhead’s Chevy shook like a clothesdryer, Ace of Base pumping from her blown out speakers. Your favorite wore her teeth like a crown. Queen of the parking lot, she flagged down the most beautiful men. You smoked Pall Malls and I tried to remember what you looked like happy. (Once, we crawled behind Fat Willy’s Rib Shack on our hands and knees. You liked the way cement bit your palms.) All the Detroit it would take to make me feel this rare. Haven’t I loved you all along the turnpike? Haven’t we turned our mattress to bring winter one too many times? What if I was for sale? Would you watch me shut the door, imagine me throwing the deadbolt and loosening a stranger’s necktie? No, in this parking lot, you would close your eyes before I disappeared. |