Ice lay in slices
of the parking lot
as Mary swung
the tiller on
her husband's
land barge.

Knuckles white from
loss of blood,
eyes resting on
the steering wheel.

She hated the car
hated its memory
and resented its
size and
missed her husband
terribly.

Mary had been what had
been called a career gal,
she had
her ass pinched all day
smiling through cracked
fear
Oh...you...boys

Her husband, Harry
said that she shouldn't
mind.
It was just their way of
saying she was pretty.

snow eventually fell on her roof
and her ass didn't attract
pinches and she could
wear eyeliner without
making a scene.

Her husband noticed too
said to stop
painting herself like
a whore,
to act her age,
to make him dinner.

She made dinner
and indecent remarks
to her friends
when the children had left
the house
and her husband had left
her with a car that
she was too scared to drive.