Sally, Defensively So

First the Saab’s, then the Pommy’s—
or was it, before, the Pizza Man’s? No matter.
All the tires are going flat, the night
a filling lot of fronts and backs heard
popping.

Tired, the Betties, and full of pothole,
thinking, What sharp ditches we are.

And the accident? A checkered car
Dan furnished and inhabits, that left her
there on the battered road, the icy spot.
What a duplex. How divided Betty too feels

next to things—bashed on both ends,
soft and fluff. When the light outs our Betty
opens a book. Buries her faces in.