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Tar Wheels

Karen Lee Stradford

It is a hot summer day.
I pull out of my freshly paved driveway
riding along listening to music,
my elbow poking out of the window.
Not a care in the world, I change lanes to weave between the traffic.

Suddenly, the sky opens up to a drizzle then a heavy downpour. I am pissed that my perfect scenery is fading.
I rush to roll up.

The cars nearby start to brake.
I quickly try to slow down,
but I can feel my car bounce before the pedal lowers completely to the floor.
Without warning, I am trapped while my car propels me into a continuous spin.

I panic,
and look for a way out.
Around and round I go
what feels like an endless cycle.
I’m thinking that help is sure to come.

The rain stops
and the car is no longer spinning
on the highway.
Nervously, I exit my car to discover
dried tar.

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