If I had a Volkswagen Beetle,
it would be cherry-red
and a convertible
with a black ragtop
and black leather seats
although I'd put covers on them,
plush, with ladybugs.
With a scarf in my hair like a headband,
I'd carry a wallet in my back pocket,
phone in my front,
and keys clipped to the belt loop
of my low-rise faded jeans.
I would invest in the perfect pair of sunglasses
and wear cheap Old Navy flip-flops
and little tank tops
that flashed my tattoos when I slid behind the wheel.
My hair would always be stick-straight,
even just out of the shower,
and I wouldn't ever think of
waxing my eyebrows or
painting my toenails.
Occasionally, I'd introduce myself as
just for fun
on those long road trips
where you stop at the same gas station
see the same family in a silver minivan
at every scenic outlook.
Big silver heart earrings
would flash in the sun
along with my white, yet crooked, smile.
If I had a cherry-red
with black leather seats
and ladybug covers
(and fuzzy dice in the mirror!)