Friday, March 18, 2011

First Car Totaled

 Pink stickers appeared on our block
One Sunday morning.
My old wreck along with the others
Looked as if it had been kissed by some painted hussy,

A cheap trick -
Twenty-four hours to move or be towed
Away with all the other jacked-up,
Tireless, mangled heaps parked on the street.
I guess it was just our turn.
I had procrastinated three months,
Knowing a deadline would finally break
The bond of guilt and ownership.
But I would not sever it myself.
If I had sold it at my leisure
With an ad in the Sunday Trading Post,
I could have gotten a hundred and fifty, ... perhaps.
But no, greed could not be our parting word.
So it went to a man for seventy-five bucks.
Walking to my local bar,
I bought drinks and had a proper wake.

May 1980

1 comment:

  1. Ha, I know the feeling. I totaled one car, and another's transmission died and it had to go to a crusher. That hurt. I loved that little car! Loved your poem.