The Time Is Upon Us - the Story of Goodbye To a Mazda

Today, keys and battery proved The old dear won’t move anymore. The conscientious mechanic tried, Even decked a fake trunk to cheer me up. A lump in my stomach arose when I thought of her, The cool highway, the cowboy hats The love of her, until, until She used that mind of her own that now sits silent, dead. She winked down the road at the dark glass of yesterday, And resigned to knowing, Her insides are repaired though unworkable, where pretty girls For 24 years, for 24 years giggled and planned. She now must be moved to make way for the yard man, To grow that golden and burn-ed grass, while The tears of remembrance roll, another Crossing into an older land. And I must say Goodbye.