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Feb. 18th, 2007 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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With apologies to e e cummings & Robert Johnson.
You know the way a car rusts:
Love rusts in the selfsame way.
It may stand, unpolished,
Unlooked after.
Then some years down the road from new
It fails to start
And gently falls apart.
And then one wonders
If repair
Is merely throwing good money
After bad.
Still one sees, along the road,
Gleaming ancient Astons, Bentleys
Even older.
Manoeuvring from their
Cotton wool garages
Parading for the world to see.
(I had a red Ferrari once,
Was too young to appreciate its grace and power.
One evening, drunk, uninsured,
I drove it into a tree.
Irreplaceable loss.
I did once borrow, without I might add, the owner’s knowledge,
An E-Type, but then my conscience
Made me put it back
Before the owner missed it
With hardly a scratch.)
And now I wonder
Should I spend my time and effort
Restoring my old and battered Escort.
And if I don't
Will I spend my days from now
In hired cars
And taxis.
J.B.