Michael Ramel The Primordial Poet Poet Rhyme

Notes About The Poem

Inspired by my Cousin Mike

An Old Junkyard

(It’s Autumn and I get an inkling
As the falling leaves get me thinking) 
Of the smell of an old junk yard
That takes me back to my father’s field
He had old cars that scarred the field
I take a backseat and yield
To the smell of oil and seat foam
Of fabric and home
Of the interior and an aroma that will last
It will last every time I come past 
This place, the smell brings a smile to my face
(As the 8-track plays the background serenade)
And I reminisce of all the times I didn’t miss
But these times I do miss now kept in my memory
The exhaust of a mechanic’s lair
The Thrush Headers for flair
So, I thank God for not being nose blind
Because these flavors waft by and do remind
Me of times and pictures I see
That I keep in my memory
All ignited by the flash 
Of the impregnable olfactory crash
In oils, and fluids and foam
In the polish of finished chrome
In the smell of rubber in reverse drops
(While trying to evade the cops
Crashing into a tree, there went my dream
It now seems so absurd
That my brother crashed his ’69 Firebird)
But back to the reverie 
Of the smells of a junkyard scene
And it ushers in things serene
Of a back-forty junkyard in my memory

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