Flat Tire

I was already out of the store
loading the potatoes
and the paper towels into my car
when I noticed I hadn’t
taken the milk out of the cart
to be scanned
like the strawberry ice cream
and the angel hair pasta
and the rib-eye steaks
I planned to marinate overnight.
I could have gone back in
to pay for the goddamn milk.
I should have gone back in.
I did not
plan on becoming a shoplifter,
a night bandit—an unsavory
deplorable who cheats and
never gets caught.
So I’m sure it was a coincidence
and only a coincidence
that the FLAT TIRE light came on
before I got home
which made me laugh out loud
and ask the air if it was kidding me—
and then I felt relieved
that the last moral choice
I remember making was between
fidelity and a drive across town—
but I stayed home and avoided
what probably would have been
a head-on collision.




4 thoughts on “Flat Tire”

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