I open the hood of my ancient truck,
pull out the broken tongue to check the transmission,
notice a pink violet glow at its end,wipe it clean,
then replace it to see if the leak is still there.
Of course, it has to be. Machinery does not often fix itself.
Today a soft glow is at its end,
like a shine of saliva.
I close the hood with a touch of gentry
remembering the time it closed too softly
and almost broke
and another time when it closed too hard
and almost broke.
The measurement for the transmission has value,
and I know the truck will last awhile longer
regardless of what my mechanic says.
| Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Having just retired my last car I can relate to anyone whose faith in mind over machine is unshakable.
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