A Study in Fading Cars
Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.
There She Rolled By
chrome shining like the noon day sun. I caught her eye. She caught mine
I almost fainted at viewing such beauty, although she being a noisy machine
Then I was hyptonized by her new smell of her seats and her perfect lines.
She rolled slowly, classy, roof of white, body of green.
Man, what a car she was.
I was just 17, ready for driving, ready for a woman's love
Sweaty hands did not become me as I walked toward her
She winked and I was hooked by that secret love from above.
I stammered, fumbled to find the words, and heard that cat-like purr.
Man, what a car she was.
She was the type that made me leave my home--
Most times I slept in the backseat all alone.
No job. No cash. Nothing but a beating heart so blue
I awoke and found two-dollars, I was thin as a bone.
Man, what a car she was.
She was many times my shelter, my warmth, my hope in the sunshine
A haven of soft retreat. No words could explain . . .
I found myself in a trance-like state, talking to her in poems line-by-line.
Then I would fall to the ground, stuttering, she was laughing in my pain.
Man was a car she was.
Time reveals himself such an enemy taking what he wants, when he wants
I was shackled by poverty, little hope, just a carseat to find rest.
She just giggled and stayed quiet. I did catch her winking, boldly taunting.
I was beaten to the soul. I surrendered to her alone. I failed her test.
Man what a car she was.
© 2019 Kenneth Avery