Oil Change

Oil Change I’m not a poet never was, but I like to tell stories Most of the stories are for my inner ear, But for some reason my collections are called poetry. I’m a practical chap, just changed oil in my car and Filled up the coolant, which is pink coloured. Later I will drive to the local garage and see if the tyres Have the right amount of air; and then clean the car. When I write about carob trees and my special tree The almond, which in my mind, strews flowers on my Fevered often walked track, I do so in tenor like oiling The hinge of a door or hammer a long nail into a wall, Nothing can be less poetic. In Kaleidoscope once I saw My future lover’s face, can that be called poetry?