This Saturday I watched my self loving boyfriend takes took after tool after tool to my little red car
My little red car that I saved up for years and years to buy
Years and years of penny pinching and counting every dollar as if it would be my last
After all this time I thought, this would be the car, this would be the one that works, the one that doesn’t have any problems
I was in a joyous cloud when I found it, waiting for me as if the Craigslist ad was meant for me: Small older Mercedes- needs love
I’ve dreamt of having a fancy car, with leather sits and windows rolled down
This car however, is not that car.
This Saturday, it broke down again. You’d think that the nonexistent speakers or the heat that doesn’t turn off would have deterred me from this nightmare.
But I was so excited. Me! In a Mercedes.
So far from the bus stops and dirty shoes from walking miles every day.
So far from my crumbling home
It called me, that Mercedes.
Called to me for a reminder that, although things all may seem glamorous I can never be anyone else.
A reminder of the poor life I’ll always be living.