Scheduled Maintenance

Standard

Tinkering is the art of incrementalism.

The heart grows fonder with each quarter-turn of a socket wrench,

I invest my time to top off her fluids when she’s running low,

Check the tread on her tires,

Pull out any dents,

Because she can’t do that on her own.

In return, she does the impossible,

Gets me where I need to go,

Yet doesn’t ask that much of me,

I’m just happy to help.

On the Road: A few Highway Haikus

Standard

1) Black, cracked tarmac,

Potholes dot  line,

Craters on the moon.

2) Grey plastic fragments,

Torn toys, paper bags, roadkill,

Litter on the shoulder.

3)  Dented divider,

Past event– tragedy?

Unnamed accident.

4) “Fuel, 16 miles”

Gas light on, alone, no signs,

Driver’s dilemma.

5) Deer crossing; beware,

Old habitat rended now,

Just passing through here.

Oil Slick

Standard

Matte black and monochrome,

Glassy, placid patch,

In the interplay,

Of the moonlight,

There’s a swirling spectre,

A rainbow in the asphalt.

The oil pan,

Is trying its hand,

At abstract expressionism.

The slow drip isn’t quite random,

And easier to understand,

Than the grand hand of man,

But even without command,

It’d be too harsh to say it’s bland.

My car may be,

A little bit pretentious,

But it’s not just artist-artifice,

I believe in it.