Cars

Who cares about them really?
Good for getting around, but
then when you go for
what really matters,
where to do you put the damned thing?
Comes all shiny and new.
Slowly, it gets old and wrinkled.
Faded.
Coffee stained.
I love coffee.
Where did I park my car?
Who cares?

2 thoughts on “Cars

  1. mary Reply

    I do! I actually kissed a car goodbye when it was off to the junk yard. Cars represent freedom to me, and loved driving them, fixing them, having them. The parking and expense was a whole ‘nother story. An old joke: you can sleep in a car, but you can’t drive a house.

  2. Anonymous Reply

    A good poem. I like the part, “I love coffee.” My brother-in-law made a comment once in reference to my car that stuck with me. I didn’t care to much for that particular car. (Some of the others in my past, I liked much more.) He said, “You know a lot of the family experience and personal experience is tied to the car.” I am reminded of this when I see a picture of the car that my parents used to have in our old photo albums. Seeing the car brings to life old memories, some of which I had forgotten about. A car by itself without the memories, doesn’t do to much for me.

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