my last American car

my last

American car was 

a dodge

dart swinger, circa 1971.

three salesmen

pushed it out of the showroom

for me. it was

army green, or imagine

the color expelled

from the demon possessed child

in the Exorcist.

the battery

died on

the way home and i had

to have

it towed to a gas station.

the next week

the oil pump blew.

the wipers soon shorted

out,

as did the taillights.

the antennae

was missing.

if a hard

rain fell, the trunk would

fill up

with water.

gallons would be sloshing

around,

cascading against the thin

walls of the car.

i had the ocean

in my trunk.

i brought it back to the salesman,

Slick Jones,

at the dealership,

who told me

that in winter

i was lucky.

the freezing temperatures

would give me

a block of ice

that i can chop down to keep

a case of beer in,

or if i went ice fishing, i was

all set to keep the sturgeon cold.

my next car

was a Honda.

a hundred and fifty thousand miles

later, i bought

another one.