My first car

My first car is starting to smell old Like my grandparents house that they no longer live in Reminds me of an antique store With trinkets and wooden and things I’ve never seen It smells of a jacket In the back of the closet That no longer fits My first car took me anywhere When anywhere seemed like so much It took me to games and stores and houses and places I shouldn’t have been But it always got me out My subtle savior I never remembered to thank My first car was old a decade ago It was rusted and I never heard the end of the jokes But it was mine. Mine in a way a lot of things never have been Mine like a name Like a part of myself Of my past Of my shame My first car doesn’t run It doesn’t putter and shutter like it used to And I can’t curse it anymore When it doesn’t turn on It died before I could say goodbye When I thought we had more time Seems like an old friend maybe That just won’t text back Seems like a dumb silly promise Like maybe it will whine at me again If I turn the key But it doesn’t And it won’t