1984 Honda Elite Scooter, 12K miles, $750, 769-3329, Bellefonte

Paul Ruby

Let me tell you about it.

It starts easy

with a little electric motor

attached to the side of a big one.

Kind of like those icky fish that stick

to the side of the big shark in the pulsing

ocean's belly.

It used to make me so happy

waiting for my stuff to dry,

in front of Splish Splash Laundromat.

And even though I only like the Pina Colada song a little

I dreamed I made whoopee on it

in the dunes of the Cape.

Go ahead, sit on it.

You’ll think you’re in Paris

or India with the monkeys

like in that Allen Ginsburg photo.

Girls will wave

as you drive by.

Forget about a Corvette

that only attracts other guys.

You need this Scooter!

Take it for a spin put on

my helmet.

Your breath fogs the visor

and mixes with my smells

of garlic, dirty hair and extra virgin olive oil

in a squishy corner of your mind.

Now we are close. It’s the smells of our

fore fathers, their fathers and that fellow in the

Raphael painting riding the stinky pony

on the Apian Way.

This scooter is your ticket to ride.

Okay, so it won't start.

Help me bounce it up and down real hard

to knock some American sense into it.

Notice how the tires leave the ground

coins and tools fly

out of the glove box and bounce

under my ex’s burgundy Camry.

Look down.

That’s her watching us through the laundromat

window. The steamy window of our lives.