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Going Home

Frank De Canio

Your car’s constructed for the engine,
not the engine for the car. Of course,
it needs solid bodywork, a good set
of tires, and a driver with some sense
of direction. Upholstered seats make
the journey comfortable, if not less
monotonous, as you putter (which will
sometimes be the case) along the backroads
of your destination. You may even want
to fuss over its simonized sheen or spiffy
interior, as though they were parts of yourself.

But the car’s purpose is functional.
And if there’s room for more than a passenger
or two, so much the better. Just don’t forget
where you’re going - what with the diverse
attractions along the way to stop and marvel at.
Not to mention the music coming from the radio.
And what gorgeous music! Full-throated
songs that burnish jaded landscapes
with green velvet mountains, lakes of emerald
and flowers jeweled with glistening dewdrops.

But the windshield’s frosted over. And that
squashed armadillo at the side of the road
jolts you from otherworldly musings.
If it doesn’t, the truck collision should,
a little further down, around the bend.
You’ll find there’s not much left to see
beyond the smoldering wreckage.

And the next time your car stalls, or you
get lost in the boondocks and have to walk
the rest of the way, remember this: Long
after your clunker’s stripped beyond
recognition and is recycled from the junk-heap,
its essence stays the same through countless
permutations, though nothing else remains.

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