crawling up the hill between the houses
just on the edge of the town
I saw the car
bright red like a cherry on top of a cake
shiny like a freshly painted firetruck
sitting in front on the house
it doesn't belong to anyone here I know
maybe someone's kid from the city came back
made a lot of money
put us all to shame
doesn't want people to know where they came from
not a little dusty town like this
I sat there and admired the car
I wanted one too
but then I stopped to think
where does money like that come from,
when everything's too good to be true?
maybe the bad places that adults like to talk about
in hushed voices with the door closed.
I never saw the owner of the car;
I figured it was bad to spy.
the car was still there
the next day
along with everything else
just like the day before
school with its dull lessons in the fall away from here,
christmas with its bright packages from home that we long for,
the first sunny days of spring that soon it will be another summer and we will return home.
I think again of the red car
maybe it is someone from the school
bringing that car into town
I don't know what they'd want here.