the old car

the old car
hardly runs. the valves
ping, the muffler
rattles,
blue smoke blows out the back.
the windshield is cracked.
the leather ripped
and worn.
it was a fine car in its
day, but it's time
to let her go. she was
right off the show room
floor.
washed and waxed.
new rubber all around.
but now,
the tires are bald and low.
the odometer
spun around and starting
over.
she was a good car, a fine
ride
to the eastern shore,
to the city. how I loved
her. listened to the radio
and drove
with windows down, gently
rubbed her fenders,
her baby moons,
her fins, her hood
and bow.