Big July arrested me
the little kid
with the skinny arms
urging the steering wheel
alone in the unlocked Studebaker
the sun exploding
off the taillight chrome
of the fat Buick parked ahead

Wanting so bad
to roll out into the world
I had only imagined
how it would feel
like sex probably
which I also
did not know
or flying

And I did somehow
when the brake released and
I began rolling backwards downhill
and for a long moment
was on a fear-struck joy ride
maybe the last of my little life
but I might see the farms of Iowa
wild horses
and the TV sunlight of California

If a rear tire hadn’t kissed the curb
setting me down hard from my cloud
back to rest on the East Bronx street
to the cry of “supper”