Kicking Tires
Kicking Tires
So that is next year’s model, is it now?
The vintage being deftly moved aside.
I feel oddly sorry for them both, and how
Her sleekness won’t survive the filthy ride.
The vintage is deftly moved aside,
the owner seeks his youth in pristine sheen
Her sleekness won’t survive the filthy ride.
I was once the starlet in this scene.
The owner, seeking youth in pristine sheen
his hand on one, his eyes upon the next;
the vintage and the fresh, both rides I’ve been.
I feel oddly sorry for them, vexed.
His hand drops down, his eyes are on the next;
the Classic with her charm and Botox tried.
I feel oddly sorry for her, vexed.
Her perch, always precarious, slides.
The Classic with her charm and Botox tried
She meets my eyes, and casts her gaze askance
unsupported on that perch, she starts to slide
the modern model starts a slow advance.
She meets my eyes, and casts her gaze askance
I feel oddly sorry for them both, and how
the modern model starts the slow advance...
So, this is next year’s model, is it now?
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