bkg188

(love poem for a ‘57 fairlane)



i never got to name you		nor did i know your name

you stood out like a			real woman

in a room of cheerleaders and dolls			sitting proudly in the parking lot

as if you’d owned it for ages			and the others should

consider themselves lucky	you let them spend their days beside you.



i gasped when first i found you		turning a corner

suddenly proved so fruitful a venture		i’d hardly noticed cars before

had no preference		 did not think of them like blondes or brunettes	

skinny or curvy 	brown eyed or blue 	you were my

first		auto		love.



i wanted to break into you 		like a tornado hitting a rural town

leaving trees scattered and downed		power lines powerless

you were a catwoman beauty of 1957 ebony 		my hands belonged

on your seats	coursing over vintage leather	never

had i so strong a desire 		to see a trunk open 		to pop a hood

to exercise authority over a machine 	and let it know who

its “daddy” was.



eartha kitt belonged in your passenger seat	next to me	she’d be singing something sexy

as we sped away	so fast the chrome	could contemplate melting

maybe she’d be stroking your gearshift or			giggling about montgomery clift

we’d be wearing cateye glasses	 to match your feline looks.



baby i wish we could’ve gotten closer		i would’ve respected you

like an antique metallic princess	would’ve treated your tailfins like gods

not made you run any harder than you wanted	   i’d have let you rest when overheated

and held your steering wheel in my arms		like the breasts of a

fantasized lover.



i cherished every trip to that lot	grew fluttery and light when i passed you

but i couldn’t ever find the balls		to touch you like you were mine

whisper and murmur my love 	offer you any sort of devotion

and now you are lost to me		an irreplaceable obsession

immortalized only by the photographs i took		that i later made

my computer background		 like a sick and slimy stalker

you made me crazy with carlust	and still i dream	of polishing you nightly.