Car Alarm
by Bill Yarrow
Wires shot.
Timing's off.
Plugs and points
need to be replaced.
Gaskets smashed.
Hoses rotted.
That's the body for you.
Most mornings won't start.
Dings, nicks, and scratches
on the exterior. Failing
internal combustion organs.
God the mechanic
is a little booked up.
He'll see you after you're dead.
Jesus! I hate poems like this!
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Author's Note
This poem appeared in Festival Writer, The Festival of Language E-Journal.
Thanks, Jane Carman.
This poem appears in Blasphemer (Lit Fest Press 2015).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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:)
Yeah...
Williams's "No ideas but in things" - then the ground trembled. And is still trembling. Here's a shaking loose:
"Plugs and points
need to be replaced.
Gaskets smashed.
Hoses rotted."
A thousand times yes - With this poem, hate and love are the same thing. Big like. *
*
God the mechanic
is a little booked up.
He'll see you after you're dead.
Super like. ***
"Most mornings won't start."*
"Jesus! I hate poems like this!"
Jesus! I love poems like this Bill.
*
That caught me by surprise.*
*
Love the poem, hate its truth. *
At last, a poem about me. How did you know? *
J.A., James, Sam, Chris, Rachna, Gary, Paul, Gary, Amanda, Christian, Matthew, and Jake--thank you all for reading and commenting, and for the lovely nest of asterisks!
Great diagnosis; too bad about the cure.
Good laugh at the end, too.
Rust spots.
Like the way you break the line at "Failing/" Nice to see good visual support of the poem. Definitely *
Oh, it makes me want to live again to imagine the mechanic finally ready with the car! Do not hate a poem like this! But it can last as a line. *
Thank you, David, Steven, Willie, and Ann. I appreciate all your comments very much.
Me too. *