"Excuse me. Can she steer the wheel so that I can push the van?"
A driver said to us, his van dead by the roadside.
It's an empty street and no other passersby available.
We could be his last resort.
I was a little insulted.
Do I look like a feeble woman
unworthy to be a car pusher?
I instantly walked to the rear of the car to start push,
as if to prove my herculean strength.
My friend and I pushed and pushed and pushed.
The van moved slowly towards a parking lot--
it used to be a busy store here, now quite deserted
due to the virus scare.
I thought about you
your muscles hidden underneath your shirt and suit
what will you look like
if you were here to push the car with me.
If I had let things take the natural courses,
you and I would love, love more, love less,
and eventually hate each other.
It would be a short lived relationship,
and I would move on.
Yet it didn't happen that way.
I end up thinking about you,
always.
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Published by haoyando
reading and writing slowly
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