Uncategorized

What They Drive–Ann Struthers

The Playwright drives

a dark blue Mazda mini-van,

plenty of room in the back  

for all those characters who follow her,

those early women flyers

knocking on the windows,

about to burst into the higher air.

 

Director of the Writing Center

rides her 1980’s bicycle, a white Mesa Runner

wedding present from her husband,

short blue coat, a sail behind her, blond hair

streaming out, smooth and shining

like her sentences.

 

The old Linguist sees all the Stop signs

in Thai and Japanese, in Old English,

translates billboards along his route to himself,

drives a Cooper, yellow and black

bread box.

 

The college Tech Guru drives an old brown Dodge,

its back seat filled with yarn for her knitting.

She finds lost documents; deleted essays resuscitate;

lost documents come home; beneath her magic fingers

what is snarled winds up compliant.

She doesn’t berate or laugh or even snicker

at their myriad genius mistakes.

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