Camaro

self reflection...

I am always such a super sport

when it comes to you

classic rallies,

polished chrome like,

sexy around the bubble bee

or

hot with dual stripes

I purr when I idle

 

You can compare me to

the past,

lost, classic

destine to be remembered

as someone who paved ways

a little too fast for her own good,

took turns and fishtailed

laughing the whole way.

 

My interior, customized by the many

that have lingered along

the assembly line

They love to get close to my trim

 

You never understood

the blue book value of me

you pawned me off  to others

 

At times I was sure

I’d rust away in green fields

alone,

like the Velveteen rabbit of grown men

 

Then, there were those

who gave me hope

once again, in restoration,

polishing me gingerly

relishing in my skin,

dazzling in my reflection

taking me as far as I could go

but eventually leaving me in an

empty concrete field

next to foreign, younger

and more efficient

competition –

it would take more

than a man to love me

 

Set free

only existing in

memories,

overpriced galleries

and some souped up imaginations

I am more than a concept

 

Rolling out onto the model floor

I am more than nostalgia

Coming home,

Coming back

once more.

 

I am like a Camaro -I rock.

 

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

yes sir, always been garaged, and if you'll look here under the hood (excuse me, please don't kick the tires) you can see that she's clean and spiffy, zero to sixty in 3.4 seconds (down hill, of course), and the price is right: nothing down, and take your time to pay, one hundred percent guaranteed for ninety days, and I'll throw in a tank of gas...you can't beat that, nowhere in town, no sir, not anywhere...ah, no checks please...