He was an expert driver
in that sporty car slung so low.
He had a lead foot
when he was in a temper,
and she clung to the seat
in wild eyed fright.
He shook his fist
right in her face,
the ring grasped tight inside.
Once a symbol of love,
now tarnished and bitter.
Squealing around and around
the roundabout
he slung the ring
out the autos open top.
It sailed across the blue sky,
glittering brightly in a high arc,
landing extinguished in the grass.
A tiny *** of lost gold
at the end of their wrecked rainbow.
She saw everything so clearly now
it was as if she had acquired
preternatural vision.