I Found a Merry Widow

at the racetrack today. When she said
she was seventy, I almost took the paint
clean off a stock car.  Her husband
of many years retired in '05,
then hurried to die - before

what they had been
waiting for began.

She was there with another man,
one young at heart
who said yes right away

when the racing dream
called him yesterday.

She had tats all over, love colors
permanently inked - reminding her
to decide to choose life,
and say yes to loving again,
and say yes to moving on,

and say yes to throwing away
the cumbersome weight of things.

A tattoo of two hands permanently
reminds her of her first man's
workaholic love that kept dreams
waiting until it was too late.

She was pissed as she missed
him - for this.

Grandkids seek and find the
inked hands hiding, and caress the
flower heart when they hug her warm
skin. They remember grandpa's love
holding them like this.

So does she.

Each flower holds a
memory they get to retouch
over and over again - like when he
balanced his teeth on his head
or put them backwards and upside
down to hear them SHRIEK.

See this other flower? When they touch
this one they see again the cigarettes
he stuck up his nose
or in his ears
to make them laugh.

So does she.

Inked love never wrinkles. When
you touch it, it stays smooth.

So does she.

This woman was light this morning. I borrowed it. 


Evergreen State Fairgrounds Speedway. Richard Petty Race Car Driving Experience.