Friday, March 8, 2019

Jimmy's car

  Well I'm back.... for now.  This year was one of reflection and other forms of creative writing took the place of my blog... mainly scribbling some poetry and I let the blog languish.  Since Google just recently started making noises about taking away their free services I was relieved to hear that the blogspot site was not one of them.  And thus I was inspired to use it or lose it.

This was the birthday week, so  I got to touch base with lots of people, some just on Facebook,  but social media is not all bad.  I get more laughs and grins on Facebook than in a typical day, even though I don't glance at it every day.   That doesn't say much for my social life, but I still see a big handful of friends here. 

This week I got more birthday greetings than I probably deserve, having been out of touch so long.    I got a birthday greeting from Jimmy and Rita in Carmel and so I thought to send them this poem that I started probably 40+ years ago and just finished last year.  


Jimmy’s car : Looking back


I borrowed a friend’s car                                           
good friend, brave to let me go                                
just learning the stick                                               
barely able to hold a hill                                           
and this his only vehicle                                          
old relic really but defining                                                 
the character of the man                                        
the owner:  young, beautiful 
Greek head of an old coin;                                    
ingenuous,  the “real deal”,                                           
are words that occur, but the                                    
car, the car should be long                                       
defunct in an auto graveyard 
somewhere complete with cur                                                                                                                      
for it was red now flaking oxide worn                
with time and miles                                                  
the seat now broken                                                
noises threaten, the body                                         
having no inside skin                                       
starting up a silent prayer                                     
as the dashboard panel’s out                      
sometimes out cruising                                           
the window drops down scary                              
the bang of it.                                                               

But the car yet lives                                               
embracing the tarmac                                            
innards purring,                                                        
a caressed cajoled                                                    
beloved beast                                                             
but take care while glancing down                                           
there’s a hole      
beneath your clutch                                       
not much, size of a gas cap                           
but a warning perhaps for                            
the irresistible draw
the bewitching grip                                        
of an asphalt river                                          
spinning                                                              
beneath your feet.


But when you finally make it                                
home intact
and didn’t even stall                
out on Carmel hill,
you will be able to count
this as one of the singular
rides of your life,
like the roller coaster
Luna Park Milan or
the time in the future
when you will ride camelback
in India and you can salute
my good pal, Jimmy
who still lives in Carmel
with a house full of energetic,
smart grand kids
and a gorgeous German wife .

Mary M Payne
                         












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