and I’m sticking to it.
Slacking again, I guess?
Five days away and not a word,
flaky bird to take flight
into the vast unknown.
I own it, mea culpa
all the way. But I can explain.
Truth is stranger than fiction
and I can prove it.
Let’s see…who takes a job
at seventy-three? Woe is me.
What car with forty thousand miles
turns from friend to foe?
I didn’t need that “I” light,
bright as it was and such a lovely shade,
to know there was a plight developing.
I felt the power steering
fade into oblivion. If the wheels
were moving, I could guide it
using both arms and a grunt, but
I did. Don’t back up. I tried.
No go. I snuffled a bit and then
remembered I’m never alone.
that dang thing home. almost
a hundred miles. I ached but
did not brake but for necessity,
and that most carefully.
I made it home without a hitch.
One thought in my head, I’m trading it.
I did. Told them what I wanted,
so have it ready please.
Everything arranged before I got there.
Trouble is, en route to new car heaven,
I had to tell my baby I was trading her.
She balked. I backed up
into a stump with a sign on it*…couldn’t help it,
couldn’t steer. Damage? Oh yeah, the metal sign post
pierced her precious hip. The stump attempted
to decapitate her bumper.
A hand was on my shoulder. I got my new Verona**.
It steers with just a touch. Such luxury is almost
too good to be true. Sorry for the slacking. Tomorrow
I’ll catch up with all of you.
*btw, the sign said: Please Drive Carefully,
True story start to finish.
**Name changed to protect the innocent
(plus I’m holding out for ad fees)
And just to add an extra twist…Here
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