the f u dance

death to my monster

so
its all but decided
the bitch has to die
frankenplow
with all of its
endearing charms
fell under the weight
of the last straw

in true
rise from the dead fashion
it will be dismantled
and used for parts
here and there

i think i might
just bolt up the
old plowkit
onto my new truck
you know
something old
something shitty
or whatever the jingle is

cant help feeling
like im giving up
like a injured soldier
is lying in the field
and i cant muster
the kahonies
to drag his butt to safety
enemy fire be damned

then reality bites
one more chunk o rust
hits my driveway
one more mouse
takes residence in the dashboard
one more winter
pulling off this disabled part
and zip tying on a rebuilt or forgery
one more
unscheduled trip off the drive
into a tree or brook or boulder
and i would likely lose
the tenuous grip
i have on my sanity

so a requiem of sorts
to the dear old frankenplow

they dont make em like you any more
you mean spirited old whore

thank the gods of a fallen detroit for that

sorryee
fivefifteeneleven

frankenupdate

havent gotten the nerve to start
the process of removing
the vitals from my beastie

i did make some random comment
as my daughter and i strolled by
where we put it out to pasture
something to the tune of
it aint dead yet
referring to my
lazy ass
procrastination

suddenly she moans

what i ask

i thought you said
you were getting rid
of that thing

still hurts

vision of gene wilder
staring in the face
of the monster
he created
as it stares at him angrily
pleading in his finest
vaudevillian style

this is a good boy

then the string of expletives
roll across my muttering tongue
as i remember
digging it out four feet of snow
out of the ditch
in a snowstorm
to change the tire
so i could tow it out
and replace the starter

brickenbrackkafrankenbitch


sorry
sixnineteeneleven