Progress, My Dear

Must we always be in such a hurry?
Cars on the motor-way
flying past each other as they
shudder and shake
at their speed
The destination is unchanged
regardless of when we arrive
The land will not leave us

The Choices of Freedom

How are we free

if all we are free to choose

is the cage that suits us best?

Breakdowns

It's always something
breaking down.
A friend getting stranded
during rush hour
on the freeway-
her engine finally
gave, my car overheating
that same night.
I was certain one of the fans
had gone on the fritz
or the radiator had begun
to crack. When I lifted
the hood with the engine
running I saw both
fans working.
I turned the heat
all the way up
as I drove home
with my windows
rolled down.
The moon shone brightly.
It didn't know
any better.

Washer & Dryer

The city breathes as one 

in Summer heat.

I stand in the open garage

and see no one walking by

and no cars in the distance.

It is a rare stillness.

The washing machine spins

it's load. It has thought 

about retirement but doesn't

think it would be happy.

The dryer is sleeping 

but will have to get working

soon. They sit next to each

other like an old married

couple who can enjoy

long silences without worry.

I lean against my car.

It too has been thinking

about retirement. I know

this because of the check

engine lights on its dash

board. When its time comes 

it will be easy

to let one another go.

Newtech

I left my car with my mechanic
because the brakes are shot
and the check engine light
has been on for at least
the last ten-thousand or so
miles. My front tires
have balded like so many
middle-aged men in denial.

He was opening shop
when I got there at seven-thirty
in the morning. I started going
to him because of my father.
He said I could always trust
him, so I have. He's let me pick
up the car without any payment,
just the promise to do so
when I have the money.
That kindness has saved me
many times, has left me
wondering what I did to earn it.

I will still be broke when
the car is ready, and more so
when I begin to pay him back.
Soon, the phone will ring
and he will tell me how much
and what other problems
there may be. I'll just say
"No problem, Mike. Whatever
you need to do,"

Continuous Existence

A graveyard of cars buried

by growing grass,

the asphalt long since cracked

and hidden from view.

Rust is the only color

painting the aged metal.

Beneath the noon time sun

grass bows gently

in an Aeolian tribute

to power so great.

The ants carry on much

as always, much as they

always will.

Mechanical Connection

Drive a car long enough and the vibrations

of the engine, the smoothness of its hum

become all you need to understand it,

to know it in health, and in sickness.

Listen and feel its vibrations, they are 

everything you need to understand.

Everyday Ballet

Motion and velocity create a dazzling display
as we peer through glass. Restraints fix us 
firmly to the seat. If the unfortunate and 
unforeseen were to occur, would the pain
be any less? A constellation of fractured
prisms would populate the asphalt, a perfect
mirror of the heavens. What celestial body
would you be? Jupiter or Saturn, Mercury
or Mars? Sirens screeching ever closer.