S and I were sitting on the couch with the dog, reading our Sally Lockhart books. Then the dog started digging around under the cushion. I looked to see what she was after, and found this little model car. I dusted it off and started taking pictures of it. S said, “Are you going to write a blog about that?” I said that I hadn’t planned to, but that I would now that she suggested it. I don’t think she meant to suggest it, really, but I’m easily influenced sometimes. I told her that I would write a poem for her about the car, and post it on my blog. So…
DRIVING INTO CREVICES
Let go the wheel. The vehicle is empty,
and you can’t move it, influence it, lift it
until another time comes.
Underwater, under weight of earth,
it waits in warmth and vibrations
with its windows wide open, but asleep.
Something we touch
until the shine of newness goes off,
then utilize daily thoughtlessly,
finally slips away unnoticed
to become tomorrow’s artifact.
A rusted axle protruding from a riverbank.
ebebee 