grind the Saginaw and feather the six

it’s a trip to the urologist
in your ‘69 Chevy Blazer
a wreck that needs a lot of money thrown at it
money you don’t have

the light turns green
you jiggle the three-on-the-tree into first
ease out on the clutch and pray it will catch

there was a time when this heap was new
there was a time when her paint glistened
there was a time you were proud to drive her

you grind that ten spline Saginaw into second
feather the worn out inline six 
until it smokes and squeals and smokes some more

at seventy they’re stripping your dignity away 
sticking fingers and probes up your ass
asking if you know what year it is
asking you if you get enough to eat

You fiddle the shifter into third
And check the speedometer even though it broke years ago
another half a mile to go on this two-lane
and then you merge onto the big road
where the heavy traffic moves fast
because everybody thinks 
they can catch up to some unassailable self-worth