38 Ford Poem by Merle Steinmann
38 Ford
The cat stares as if transfixed.
Her eyes drift shut, then open wide.
She feels something.
To watch, to fear.
Leaning forward slightly to peer, intent
at the photograph,
the people arranged
by the ugly car,
in a faraway time,
and place.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: car,cat
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8/28/2026 8:30:36 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
