The Detroit It Would Take
by 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.