PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I still remember the time when I first saw the car, I was six years old and my father had to travel miles to get him home, where he now belongs. That combination of black and white made the whole car a panda bear, his shiny silver like rims and rubber legs that eventually crossed all San Cris´s bumpy roads, met all my crashed with a few walls. His first victim was Dani, he such a wild horse that every time she touched the gearbox he got mad and would automatically stop, because obviously it was the car´s fault. If she wanted to go left he wanted right, however whenever the chief presence was felt all of a sudden he would behave. Patience and courage made his way through two more sisters and one more to come. Every Sunday carrying the whole family, hearing long inside conversations that reached no more than those 4 doors, this plus movie nights made the perfect ingredients for lazy Sundays. He helped making my sisters and me feel useful by giving us rides to every town´s corner making our shores possible. He also meant family integration, every time we dusted his soul with laughs and giggles. At some extends he represented guilt, when that stinky, transparent yellow liquid dripped from his hub, my parents acknowledge my sister´ rebellion by unleashing the six beast that slobbered all over the place. Sweat was the smell of effort, Dirt the color perseverance. It has no price, literally, that pointer was a gift from destiny therefore for my father was a sign of good fortune, thus it was not on sale, with such qualities who would ever want to give away such a precious automobile. There has been as much lessons as mistakes witnessed when driven. He made us realize that these two are linked, one causes the other, and so the fact that an electric pole runs into the plaque was a very interesting lection for my whole family. In a way its is a mirror of the insecurity in between our borders, the poor, weak, little panda was left all alone outside of the four wall capitalist facility, the humongous market, when suddenly the crime hand snatched his voice. Not a car, not an automobile, not even an object it is more like a concept, a concept that represents our experiences, feelings and memories as a family. It is and will always be, the car of the house