She “stood” on four maypops with a rusted out floor pan and
Windshield wipers that created glass etchings with each use.
Her once plush seats were now duct taped. Bailing wire held her
Rumbling, smoking muffler in place and “cuts and bruises” adorned her once
Exquisite chassis. Bodily fluids dripped...the essence of her life away.
Yet, I was “hers” and she was “mine.” Garage man said she was through.
So on a night when the moon burned lunar holes upon unkempt highways
And the empty promises of yesterday littered the forlorn road
Like beer bottles and soda pop cans devoid of their once appetizing contents
We took our “last” ride. Speeding, careening over a mighty cliff, two broken bodies,
Headlamps blazing, plunging into amaranthine immortality the
Radio playing “Time in a bottle” as a pair of anachronistic holdouts
Searched for new roads to travel, new horizons to conquer.
No comments:
Post a Comment