R.D.J.

i see them often, swerving through the pavement lanes. past construction signs and haggard workers, the rev and whiz and turn. slowing down for those red eyes, but blurring through the yellow, the classic cars go by.
i always here them coming, engines polished heavy under a skilled workman's hand. all exhaust pipes and fender shine atop white-wheeled tire tread. they rumble through the city, motors out-putting noise pollution, making these midwestern plains shake and tremble.
those deep cherry reds, banana split yellows, dreamsicle oranges, all tinted to perfection. high wax finishes reflecting this rural skyline is how they go by. a motion picture screened on a side panel, a one time private viewing for the lucky's only eyes.
when i catch a glimpse in my review mirror, i expect to see him at the wheel. with a long dark cigar between his teeth, beneath sunglasses that shine like mirrors. unkempt hair turned and cal licked by the wind as he leans toward the window frame. a man outlined in chrome shop dreams, set fittingly in this great plains dream.
with anticipation i crane my neck hoping to see him there, a once great friend who would spend the weekend sitting in a room upstairs. we would talk for hours then, between sips of champagne, fine wine and whiskey, talking of the summer days we could spend with the highway as our ally.
plans were made to never be kept, time slated for garages. we would spend the days on some classic car making it shimmer, shine and rumble. "a real long boat is what we really need, with fins to cut the air. we could make this whole continent our playground, we could run the miles then."
so now when i'm cutting through traffic, in my shirt and tie commute, i always see some '50's savior and hope he's in the coupe. alas, i see him rarely, and now he lays on a bed of straw. still making plans and wishing that we had captured the freedoms we used to draw.
maybe someday i will see him. as i crane my neck to glance, and with head held high i'll yell out at him to pull her over to the side. i'll drop it all and run away, far from these dying plains, and find the fruition of my longing with the man they call R.D.J.