Poetry Friday

Fate

You have to hope, for his sake, that the guy was alone

when it happened. Of course, “guy,” is a gender

assumption, but the whole scene’s got “guy” written all

over it. Guy spots an unclaimed treasure left out

curbside, and he can picture just the right place for it in

his basement. Or maybe it was a cast-off from his co-

worker’s brother-in-law. “Sure, it’s all yours. Stop on

by.” So he heads over, pulls over, tosses it into the back

of the pick-up truck. Or maybe jams it awkwardly into a

trunk that somehow seemed bigger when he first

bought the car. A smart guy, he’s well aware there

should be a bungee cord or two involved; but the cord

he really needs is back in his garage, and the cord he

really has is too short to help. Lucky he’s not going too

far. No worries. Good enough. Out on the highway, he

speeds up without even thinking about it, and then,

Thump, a heavy thud informs him he’s hit a bump and

his treasured find has crashed out onto the highway

shoulder, landing in an amalgam of odd angles. And

there it sits, even now, weeks later. For his sake, it’s a

darn good thing he was alone, with no witness to his

folly. Still, he knows that more than likely before the

whole mess mysteriously disappears, his wife will

probably drive by it. When she sees it there, upside

down and shattered, she'll laugh out loud and say,

"What a perfect place for such an ugly old chair.”