We have a very old car, our first real car as a married couple. It’s been stolen three times (yes three) and the last time, fifteen months ago, we thought it was gone for good. In a strange turn of events, it returned to us on April 1, not as an April fool’s joke but in the flesh (or metal as it were).
An everyday occurrence
Burns a bit of oil, she does
parked in the driveway
Sometimes we have to push her out
wait til she roles down the hill to
jump her out of her lethargy.
Then the driveway is empty..
Away for a long weekend
some asshole has crept up the steep way,
lurking in the bushes
seduced her out with false promises
Gone, gone, no ransom note
No sign of anything remotely like a clue.
Months have driven by, we’ve given
hope a ticket for vagrancy. Expected
that she was traded for some other goods
or driven into the ground
I threw out
We’ve gotten by, mourning her loss
with bicycles. Then yesterday’s
spring dusk brings Steve to our door,
holding her registration,
he has spotted her about a mile away.
Cold, lonely and abandoned
No one pimping this ride anymore.
Everything (almost) looks the same,
The window that won’t open
the rust around the license plate,
the moss around the door handles.
A bit worse for
a bedraggled truant, the derelict tag
on her windshield the symbol of
Of course she tells no tales.
Even her odometer barely registers any circulation.
Did she run away with a better suitor?
No matter, we’re rejoicing now
And Steve too, with
$20 for his “finders fee.”
While the car is back
under the sycamore tree
waiting for new rings.