RICHARD

FIVE MONTHS LATER

SUMMER 1965

One hot night Ray, Percy, and me

were working under the oak tree

at Ray’s—

put my V8 in the ’62 Ford,

painted her black,

named her Delonoa,

painted her number—

ONE.

Millie was in the house with Annamae,

the kids were at her parents’.

’Round about midnight, the girls came out,

went back inside.

One o’clock in the morning,

girls came out, went back in.

Two o’clock, girls came out again.

They went back inside.

We just weren’t done working.

I had something to say.

Finally, I said to Ray and Percy,

For the first time I live and work in the same place—

Washington, D.C.—

but years of going back and forth

between Caroline County

and Washington, D.C.—

I got more experience

driving than anyone.

but they said, Okay.

You drive this one.

You race in Parnassus.

So come the weekend,

I’m lined up at the start

against Brian in his red Chevy—

the man to beat.

I’m pressin’ on the gas,

my foot antsy on the clutch,

the Christmas tree, red,

blinks right down the line—

red, red, red, orange,

GREEN—

up with the clutch and I’m off,

just hangin’ on to that steering wheel,

everything rattlin’ and roarin’

YOWWWWW.

I am neck ’n’ neck

with the red Chevy,

sweating hard,

I inch ahead.

Damned if I don’t win.

I bring home the trophy—

we all been collecting plenty over time

and we divide them up—

this one’s clearly

MINE.