That Night on Wopsy Mountain Overlook

I’m a bad American man
because I never
had sex in a car,
but you have to understand,
it wasn’t even my idea.
She said it was a great place to study
parked under the TV tower,
Altoona in the valley below.
I had a Cadillac with
royal blue crushed velvet seats,
like the couches in a funeral home,
but she drove her Civic wagon.
The seats reclined, high ceiling,
but we were surrounded by glass.
My silence on the way there
thinking about my best friend
who wanted to be in this seat,
going to this place,
while watching her shift gears,
a skill I had yet to acquire.
Surely, we were just friends,
but we had been spending
a lot of time together lately—
Four cars parked facing the cliff
when we got there.
The dome light stayed on,
so not much of a view.
We sat listening to a mixtape.
Her Psych textbook open
on the steering wheel—

from the darkness
comes a woman in a bunny costume
ringing bells, calling out,
There’s nothing happening in this one!
Six figures emerge from the night,
surrounding the car,
carrying crucifixes.
Textbook flew into the back seat.
Starter hesitated for a moment
before the Honda came alive.
Screeching tires
on switchback turns
the only sound
all the way home.

Matthew Ussia is director of Duquesne University’s First Year Writing Program in spite of the fact that he got a C- in freshman writing and was rejected from Duquesne’s MA program.  He is also an editor, podcaster, post-doom thereminist, softcore punk, postpunk backup singer, social media burnout, and sentient organic matter.  His first book, The Red Glass Cat, was published by Alien Buddha Press in 2021. His writings have appeared in Mister Rogers and Philosophy, Future Humans in Fiction and Film, North of Oxford, Trailer Park Quarterly, Anti-Heroin Chic, and The Open Mic of the Air Podcast among others.  More information can be found at www.matthewussia.com.