By Peg Quinn
“Honey, get it while you can.” —Janis Joplin
A well-kept black Buick crept through the parking lot
as if time no longer mattered, eventually found a spot
and cautiously, came to a stop.
Thank you elderly man in hip denim jacket and worn
baseball cap who creaked in slow motion around the back
to the passenger’s side to aid a small woman,
her one daring toe touching pavement.
Thank you stylish high heel with striped sock,
frail and waiting
Thank you, practiced precision, their arms gently clutched,
easing her up
When steady, she held him with the wide smile of true love
while arranging a too-large sweater
Oh thank you, smile and tangled clothes
He leaned down low, eyes closed.
Even their kiss was slow.
Peg Quinn has a B.F.A. in Education from the University of Nebraska and is a visual artist and educator. Her poetry and creative non-fiction have been published in numerous journals and anthologies and three-times nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Her debut book, Mother Lode, was published by Gunpowder Press in 2021. Also by this poet: "Notes for an Oil Painting:" and "What Lies Behind the NO TRESPASSING Sign"