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Ode to My Car
by Faye Rapoport

You stand there, waiting
damaged, not knowing it,
the rain rinsing off
smudges, leaves, bugs, clumps, 
collected from highways, back streets, mountain roads,
parking lots, driveways.

You wait patiently, as you have for years,
outside, while I work inside, or play,
ready for my next request.
Take me here.  Take me there.
Get me out of here,
fast.

I took care of you
the best I could,
changed your oil, bought new wipers,
vacuumed.

Sometimes I gave you premium gasoline
for a little treat.

I cried in you,
laughed in you,
bopped my head to U2 in you,
drove through miles of prairie, past snowy peaks,
pulled you over to listen to the elks
bugle
and to watch the great-horned sheep.

I drove you into the
Park ‘n Lock
on 42nd street.

You waited while I sat inside boardrooms,
bored,
and while I slept outside,
cold.

When others left me,
or I left them,
you stayed.

Now you’re waiting in the rain,
not knowing that your back is bent and twisted,
or that today I trade you in.

Salut.

 

 

Copyright (c) 2012. Faye Rapoport DesPres. All rights reserved. Design by JSDesignz
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