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Auto Bonnet
On a crackling sheet of asphalt, beneath an angry star,
I'm forced to debate between machines of varied transport.
One day they may earn the names of women, many bound by love,
but for now, anonymous as they came to be: a complex of mechanics
There is a first glance, which reveals next to nothing,
besides the shine of the chrome and the vanity of the former.
A sample taken of them says much of their interior.
Forays into their depths may state a word of their performance.
A way to test the road upon all fours may be a proposition
that keeps on the lot for many hours past intention.
But per my lack of knowledge, I hunger by my eye
for all the grind of gears and tread upon the tire.
There is a choice to make, between the inside and the out
of which to judge and lay decision, of which I may regret.
The curve of the chassis, the color of the paint,
or the rigors of the handling and the call of the maintenance light.
And since I know so little, and since the dealer tends to lie,
I think I'll just continue walking, for just a little while.
