An old man climbs into a vintage car
to smell the sweet upholstery,
caresses the steering wheel’s steel bars
and grips the gearshift **** of ivory.

He pulls the heavy door to close
it and hear its deep, dull iron clunk
that fuel-injects him with a dose
of chrome-clad metal hunks.

The streamlined car doesn’t move.
Still, it takes him on a favored trip
down a grey road well grooved
that his whitewall mind-tires firmly grip.

Its tires spin in grooves and sing
a well-pitched tune of rolling on.
Seams of concrete slabs now bring
the bumping heartbeat of this song.

His greying hairs match the road
which stretches out into his past,
leading him back in freeway flow
to a love that he’d made last.

For in a leather rumble seat
in a sleek car just like this one,
he’d kissed her hand and lips to greet
his sweetheart hunnybun.

She smiled as bright as high beams
at her motorheaded beau,
with wide eyes that stole his dreams
and made his fuel more quickly flow.

With hair like raven asphalt
framing lips in brake-light red,
in her saw he no faults,
but thanks to him, she’d end up dead

in a shattering crash
as they slid into a tree,
his youthful driving brash
and far too wild and free.

He swore to never leave
her by that bleak perditious street.
Resolved, he chose to grieve
her and keep the rumble seat.

So once a year he sits in this car.
He never drove again.
But each time it takes him far,
right to where his hunnybun had been.

when I am running on fumes
you fill me up.
igniting my engine to throttle a bit harder.
A bit faster.
you rev me up regardless the number of bumps,
regardless the amount of twist
and turn, in the road ahead.
my heart belongs to you.
propelling me towards the sunset.
the reason I speed down the street in this passionate flight.
Not afraid to jump any unsuspecting hill.
most might think that I am crazy, the way that I drive.
if they knew the reason why, they'd press the pedal down
as well.
when I am running on fumes, rev me up, rev me up.
Darling rev me up.
I am a well-oiled machine with a place to be.
whether towards the moon or the sun.
you're the gasoline that ignites the spark
that pushes me to go a little further.

i fall asleep in the back of ubers, to the sounds
of middle-aged drivers talking to their loved ones
giving advice, the smell of spice, my temple on the window
just playing a mental jeopardy with the meanings behind
those accented words of languages i don't understand
perhaps, once upon a time, i did, but now, no longer

i sleep like a stranger in my own home, climbing
into my bed without caution, with atrophying bones
it's a debilitating exhaustion, it's characteristic of aging
of falling and forgetting about the friendships and benefits
that broke through my bed slats, plus the flash-lit attempts
to fix the unfixable with feminist texts and crumpled cash

i dream about my mother as another, and her neck
remains untouched, perhaps only adorned with pearls
so wide, and so bright, and the garage door is always unlocked
it's comfort, it's nostalgia, it's the furthest i've been from home
and when the radio turns on, i wake to unfamiliar laughter, and
"i miss my dog, and i miss falling in love," and everything's amiss
and all i can do is sit here, tipping a stranger as i reminisce

They have children,
they have homes,
they have money,
they have jobs,
they have good cars,
and many more things they want to have.

I have paper and pen,
I have my poems,
that's enough.

I'm often asked by friends afar
What was that bright and shining star
That led me to this place of joy
To truly savor this, my rather special toy.

Was it the palm trees swaying in the breeze,
The cheeky Pelicans skimming waves with ease,
Florida's sun beaming brightly morn to dusk,
No need of taking weather Gods to task.

Miles of sand flanking the beach side road,
Reflections of my sportscar sleek and broad,
Cutting the air with startling grace
A glorious rumble heralding its pace.

Heads turning then blinded by the sheen,
A glimpse of Its lustrous body powerful and lean,
What better way to pass a perfect day
So far from all that usual fray.

Harmony and peace can come in many forms,
No need to heed convention, stated norms,
This passion shared by us the few,
Underneath that sky of blinding blue.

a knot of traffic
unravels
to reveal.... nothing
no reason for delay
no great drama
just
too many people
in too many cars
in one place
at one time
wanting to be in front
all more important
than everybody else

Why are there more buildings than trees
In the city that's promising dreams?
Why are there more cars than
Parking spaces
What's all the rush?

Why are there more boats than fish
On the island of eternal bliss?
Can't even hear my thoughts
From all the noises;
I Feel overwhelmed.

There are pockets of green,
A desert preserved,
Only one single tree where I've ever heard birds
They sing in the morning at 8,
But I'm starting to think it's too late

I see mountains rising
And buildings above them,
I see clouds slowing passing
As cars outrace them,
All the light pollution
Has the sky turned brown;
At night
In the centre of life
I feel drowned

i saw us

4 cars and a lake house, making friends all over this town, nothing holding us back

3 dogs and a sunset, laughing until there’s no air left, netflix binges on our couch

2 matching starbs tumblers, getting mexican food when our stomachs rumble, stargazing pretty far our

1 walk down the aisle, listening to morgan all the while, smiles on the way out

but instead it’s time to let you go

but i hope you know i’ll always love you so