Praxis

If I wanted to grade
all of those finals,
I would.

But I'm not, so I don't.

I walked onto the car lot,
into the dealership show room
and shouted:

"It's because I'm a woman, right?
You thought you could just screw me over,
didn't you?"

I'd like to say that the customers stopped
and stared,
but there were no customers that afternoon.

Just the greasy dick with a gold tooth
and gold bling around his neck.
I'm not making this up.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

I had misted eyeglass cleaner
into my eyes and with my allergies,
well you can imagine.

I squeeked my voice: "What do you mean
calling me to say the gas guage was broke?
You think you can charge me $645.32
in diagnostics to tell
me that I was just out of gas?"

I pitched my voice louder: "I mean, what
the hell?" Act crazy, the girls at the office
had told me. Go in there and throw a complete fit.

"It's because I'm a woman--right?
You think that b/c my husband walked out on me,
that I don't have sense enough not to take this shit.
Oh yeah, oh yeah--I'm on to you."

I wiped my eyes and threw the kleenex on his desk.
Pointing my finger, "You think you can sell
that piece of junk to me, not tell me about the gas guage,
and have me come in here and give you even more money?
With me working two jobs and having a child on my own?
You think, 'she doesn't have anyone--what's
she going to do'? Huh? Huh?"

I put my hands on my hips, threatening to esculate,
and just hoping someone,
anyone,
would walk in. "Well, I'm not leaving here
without my car. Without a fair price. Or without
an apology."

Ten minutes later:
I humiliated myself for 50% off--

all because that other guy,
who looked like my grandfather
in all the black and white photos,
the grandfather who, on his death bed,
warned, "don't let little Red near that barn," just
before it collapsed three days later,

all because that other guy,
looked me up and down, said, "you think
I'd sell to a divorceeeeeeee? [Sour,
puckered face b*stard] Here's $5 dollars;
you can take it for a test drive missy--
go put some gas in it."

Sure, I laughed all the way back
to my hunk-of-junk
with my 50% off receipt, laughed until
my hands shook.