Driving Home a Point
today his pickup has made its point,
seems no place and time, no weather
can be more apt for that purpose
than this wet, sloping dirt-road bend
right smack in the muddy middle
of a desolate cornfield somewhere
in the heart of a lightning-lit night,
right in the eye of a nasty storm;
a few minutes ago, it roared,
but then it wouldn't move an inch;
its engine faltered, missed two beats,
whimpered and then finally died;
drenched in rain and desperation,
he works the clutch and battery
as he tries to coax back to life
the ignition, but all to no avail;
he gets out fuming mad, cursing,
slams the steel door, slushes away
in the soft mud, shivers in the rain,
glancing back, he sees his pickup
sitting on its shadow, chuckling,
seems to him with malice, gloating,
triumphant in its metallic conviction
that it has driven home a hard point !
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
