ALERO: THAT'S A MACAW

Old flame rising through my soul 
    "Why don't you live?"
         her delicious monotone
as previously  "A car?  You?"
as I should master the horizons 
    on my hands & knees
Well, I could not come alive
but I did get some dignity - no more
to pile up my fragments in my old
sailor's bag & then trundle off gutterly
but get thee in gear -
    R is for Race
"What colour is it?"  "My colour."
kilted girls register the royal blue
I raise the hood & roll up my sleeves
maintenance beneath the afternoon moon    

    Camus along an Algerian headland
enjoys a car's immediate independence
& one man's fate pre
    seatbelts or airbags
I think of my father in the 50's
buying a new Studebaker driving
North of Superior The Group of Seven
past prairie towers brimming with gold
through the Rockies dwarfed by desire
    & flattened by fear
         to bring his wife my mother home 

Alero        above pavement at 200,000 K
that's a macaw        Let It Fly        while the caustic 
    call & contrasting colours are all
         mine

© Gregory Myers