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By: NoahWereman~

.
I’ve a clunker in my driveway.
All the ads tell me it’s trash
and that there’s a willing dealer
who would turn it into cash.
.
Then I’d have a brand new pickup
that would guzzle much less fuel.
If I didn’t take advantage
I would surely be a fool.
.
So I shave my stubborn whiskers
and I don my Sunday best.
I will swig a cup of java
while a donut I ingest.
.
I put on my favorite jacket.
Though outside my windowsill
it is cloudless, bright and sunny
I feel every little chill.
.
Out into a songbird morning
now I carefully will go.
I remember walking briskly.
As of late, I’m rather slow.
.
Here comes Lucky and she greets me
with a stick and wagging tail.
Though she doesn’t fetch it swiftly
she returns it without fail.
.
So I toss it for her gently.
I guess one won’t need a sleuth
to detect what’s plain and simple,
that we’re both long in the tooth.
.
But I really mustn’t dawdle
like I used to do back when
I had ample time for biding.
That’s a thing for younger men.
.
There he sits, my trusty clunker,
so I make way to him
squeeze into his ragged chassis
wishing I was fit and slim.
.
Lucky wants a ride this morning.
She is ready for some fun.
I can’t find the words to tell her
that my clunker’s days are done.
.
From my pocket comes the key ring.
I remove one now for good.
Why is it this little gesture
takes much longer than it should?
.
It goes into the ignition.
Just to get the beast the start
takes a fair amount of patience
and a little bit of art.
.
While the radio’s still working
modern music isn’t much
but I dial up the weather,
current happenings and such.
.
I remember well the newscasts
and though he has gone away
I can recollect with fondness
when Paul Harvey said ‘Good Day’.
.
So I sit within my clunker
breathing his familiar smell.
Had this truck the means to do so
O the tales he would tell.
.
He would talk of friends and kinsfolk
who have shared my rides with me.
He would speak of town and city
river, mountain, valley, sea.
.
He would gripe about the potholes
and the sorry state of roads,
grumble loudly of the backaches
due to his so many loads.
.
We’ve shared many destinations,
from the simple to the strange.
He’d harangue me something awful
for he needs an oil change.
.
He was once an artful dodger.
Many vehicles he’d pass
and at just a buck a gallon
cheap and plentiful, the gas.
.
He has always been quite faithful.
Come the wind or come the snow
he’d convey me to the places
that I needed him to go.
.
He is not too eco-friendly.
With exhaust I must contend.
But in spite of all his stinking
I’ve not had a better friend.
.
Glancing up I see reflection
up within the rearview mirror
and I find it’s not surprising
that I’ve shed for him a tear.
.
Just two feisty old curmudgeons.
Lordy ain’t we just the pair?
Do I part with him forgetting
all the memories we share?
.
He would make his fateful journey.
All it takes is me to ask.
He’d be loyal and trustworthy
even in his final task.
.
Dearest friend you are a clunker
and like me you’ve grown old
but you’ve still a tale that waits you
and a fable to be told.
.
Come what may, we will be living
out our rusty destiny
filled with many songbird mornings.
I’m a clunker, same as he.
.
2009 A Noah Trifle
ISBN 10: 0-9815846-8-3