ADAM COLT

by Teresita Perez

Zigzagging in traffic rush.
Its father behind the wheel.
And me holding urge to push,
trying not to even squeal.

Oh, no! We're not gonna make it.
Hurry up! I think it's here.
Out of the way! I can't take it.
Ah! Aah!! Aaah!!!... Three blocks from there.

I won't tell the father that
I am sitting on it's head.
Forget the tire is flat.
A wrong turn? The worse I dread.

Help, help, help! Help, help me, pleeeease!
Like two eggs my eyes pop out
when the hospital we reach
and I know I can't get out.

Muscles grab and hold me tight
lifting some to ease the weight.
It's body is still inside.
Now I'm sure it is too late.

It's face plastered on the seat.
Strangers gathering around.
Two black men hold up a sheet.
Father pulls my panties down.

Fear and sorrow brace my heart.
A massive contraction grips.
It is born inside the car.
Body white. Blue face and lips.

Distraught, anguished, in a daze.
Tell me, please, is it alive?
The crowd applauding in praise
as they hear the baby cry.

Someone proclaims, "It's a boy!"
Father gets handshakes and pats.
Entertaining's not my joy,
but temped to pass the hat.

Now, years later, I'm still glad.
How I love to talk about
his catastrophic facade!
It's been great since he's been out.

My comedian, my delight,
plays guitar, top grades, and more.
And you know his mother's right.
The best is he loves the Lord.

He got named just like the car,
after the Dodge Colt of old,
where in a manner bizarre,
he was born to light my world.


Copyright © 1992, 2020 to Teresita Perez

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