Pocket Poetry

This one arrived after a conversation with my friend Jerry about getting old - all the things that come loose! He quoted Joseph Campbell as saying it's like pieces falling off a car. So here's the poem.

HOME STRETCH

(FOR JERRY)

There goes the fender.

A rattle in the undercarriage,

steam from the bonnet

and the number plate is loosening,

Reduce speed now!

Who cares,

hedgerows are deceptive,

they like to flash past.

You are not Toad of Toad Hall

infatuated by the throttle’s deep

throated masculinity,

you know engine’s are not infinite,

parts peels off and somersault;

a blithe reverence for Gods recklessness,

his sense of humor at your co piloting .

After 60 it is patch and patch.

As a nation we don’t darn anymore

but replace and upgrade

In the end there’s a limit to possibility,

to how serious our biography

with its unremarkable details.

Youth is not carefree in comparison

to this wild monologue.

Ah, there goes the hubcap.