A white Chevrolet,
year 1990!
He tossed me the keys
and said “Try it.”
I was amazed,
because it wasn’t
that old car from my dad,
who would smack me
on the back of the head
for every mistake.
Four gears?
P—park
R—reverse
N—“neutral” he said,
“like Switzerland”
D—straight ahead
Only gas and brakes!
When I turned the key
the lights even lit up at night.
With that car I toured
the lakes of Wisconsin.
Moccasin Lake,
Storm Lake,
Sunset Lake.
Sometimes I stopped to take pictures
of herds of deer.
Other times I filled up the tank.
I floored the pedal
and discovered America.
A white Chevrolet,
year 1990.
My first car,
even though it really
belonged to Douglas,
my wife’s father.
year 1990!
He tossed me the keys
and said “Try it.”
I was amazed,
because it wasn’t
that old car from my dad,
who would smack me
on the back of the head
for every mistake.
Four gears?
P—park
R—reverse
N—“neutral” he said,
“like Switzerland”
D—straight ahead
Only gas and brakes!
When I turned the key
the lights even lit up at night.
With that car I toured
the lakes of Wisconsin.
Moccasin Lake,
Storm Lake,
Sunset Lake.
Sometimes I stopped to take pictures
of herds of deer.
Other times I filled up the tank.
I floored the pedal
and discovered America.
A white Chevrolet,
year 1990.
My first car,
even though it really
belonged to Douglas,
my wife’s father.
–Ivan Hristov,
translated from Bulgarian
by Angela Rodel
The Season of Delicate Hunger
(Accents Publishing)