I dreamed last night about my '73 LTD, Ford Madox Ford. I loved that car. I'd painted it with matte house paint, white & light green, & written lines from poems of mine along the body:
Dreams aimless as destinations
&
It will be easy to drive away from this
I got stopped by the cops all the time when I drove that car anywhere outside of New York City. They usually said: Just wanted to see who would be driving a car like this.
In my dream I gave the car to a couple from New Jersey who were having a baby. It's too hard to park, I said. And with regret: I've had that car for 20 years.
In reality, I haven't had that car for 20 years, more like 25. I sold it for $1 to Eileen Myles, her first car.
I woke up satisfied. Restored.
I'm only me as a driver.