Picking up the pieces of your life
after several head-on collisions
where paint, is scraped and cut
by other people’s rust
where you bend and hammer
your battered, insides
so your body looks new
even though, it was twisted and warped
If you finesse, your damaged self, no one will know, you are damaged
metal, beaten into place, and painted over
is a Classic car
that can rip through
And the heart of your car, must be studied
by your mechanical self
to decide, whether or not, it can be salvaged.
A Classic car, is a Classic
not because of the age it lived in
but the history
it experienced, like character
in the eyes of an old man.
You can’t make an old car new
You don’t want to
Buying a new car that looks like an old one, is not the same, as one loved and neglected, and then loved again.
There are so many people, who look at a Classic, and only see 1955
Not the years lived, up until the present moment
like a beautiful woman, under all her wrinkles.
does not define us
People admire beauty
they cringe at scars
they cringe at the truth
they don’t want to be reminded of life, and the death that will shortly follow
Why do people admire innocence?
Everyone is acting innocent, and wanting to be young again
they hide from who they have become
they want to forget their past
they want to become perfect
When we disappear, into nothing
we become, Something.
We have broken down
on the side of the road
overgrown by weeds.
Where we were headed, doesn’t matter
isn’t going anywhere
Your plans, a distant impossibility
will help you
your perfect lawn.
When the days become dark
you will fall asleep
not to do anything.