Betty Helen Collins

Changing cars






seduced by soft comfort, swanky colour
smooth clutch and efficient brakes
no little red lights flickering warning
of heat, of low coolant: I respond
eagerly, flirt with the salesman,
bad-mouth my faithful old vehicle;
All I want now is to
drive away, dash away,
flow over new horizons,
flash new lights, feel new suns,
embrace new lovers. The new car
intoxicates me with inhaled power,
the scent of seats as yet unsullied.
And yet will I not dream sometimes of
my old car, the steering wheel worn
smooth and shiny by the caress
of my hands the seats stained
by the passage of friends?

© Poetry.com