HomeSouthern VoiceThrough the Windshield Glass

Through the Windshield Glass

by Susan Evans

Curious to see if the grass had been cut
At the old Unicoi cemetery one golden afternoon
My car nosedives into a ditch near a driveway
I tremble, “How am I to get it out again?”

An uncommonly savage little girl in an above ground swimming pool
Mouths, “Who are you?”
And an antipathetic woman, with glowering eyes and fat rolling on a riding lawn mower
Screams unheard words over the mower in my direction
Stomps into her house
I whisper, “Keep your temper!”

A tall man in a baseball hat and red t-shirt, sweaty in the heat,
His wife from the mower,
Her Tweedle Dee and Dum sisters in matching white shirts, shaved heads, tattoos
Troop out the back door and waddle to my car
One twin chirps, “We are good people.”

A clinky chain and a black pickup truck
Yanks my car out of the gully
Relief floods into me like hot treacle and I thank them humbly
And the moral of the story on that golden June day in Unicoi is …
I can’t tell you just now, but I shall remember it in a bit.


Susan Evans lives, teaches and writes in eastern Tennessee. She is published in The Home Forum, The Christian Science Monitor, WNC Woman Magazine, Ornery Quarterly and Six Hens Literary Journal. Follow her on Facebook here.

Two Poems by Katarin
Virtual Reality Soft