By Mia Hanuska
“i hope they’ll treat you well”
i whisper to my spot after the last bell
it’s the farthest one i could get
but one i’ll never forget
it’s been two, no three, no four years
of keeping our car safe from peers
no crashes, door dings, or even scratches
no need for any patches
it’s almost like a family heirloom,
we could always trust you to give us room
now that we’re gone
we’ll have to move on
but if you park in the spot
in the very far left front of the student lot
treat it with care
or don’t—if you dare.