Remember When...

Good times, good times.

Remember the day you tried to kill me?
In your precious ‘65 Buick Electra 225,
with power steering, windows, seats, locks.
And air conditioning; with automatic transmission.
You were so proud of it.

You LOVED that car.

Yeah, it was a beauty. You treasured that car.
And you were going to drive it into the bridge,
with us in it,
just because I said that it was time for me to move on.
You knew that it was inevitable.
I’d told you so many times.

Anyway, I remember how you drove wildly through the streets.
Like a man possessed,
your white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never faltered.
You shouted that you wouldn’t live without me,
even though you’d been doing so for months.

I bet you wondered how I could remain so calm
as we neared the end you'd chosen for us.
How I didn't scream, or try to grab the wheel,
or even make an effort to talk you out of it.

You LOVED that car.

All I did was say that you’d break the car.
Something inside your madness must have heard me,
because your foot slammed the brake so quickly,
that even you were surprised.

You REALLY loved that car.

You calmed right down and
pulled over.
Parked your precious car.

And then,
we talked of how it would be,
said our final farewells,
and you drove me home, safely.

We’d laugh about that day now,
if we still knew each other.

You really loved that car.

©Ellen Pepper 2026