September 28, 1975 (I was 30)
Down at the vehicle house
they congregate in the
driveway.
Each day as I pass
I see the supplicating
parishioners
bent over like ostriches
into open hoods
of the car, station wagon,
camper truck, tractor
and jeep. They climb in and out
of the boat. Mary and Joe Vehicle
watch the earth mover
clearing more space
next to the triple stall
garage whose doors
are always open. Neighbors
seem to drop by often
Young Jesse flies by on his
un-muffled cycle
to give the boot to a few
garbage cans
on his winding way up the
hill.
His sister kicks the horse
into third gear
riding bareback across the
field.
These people are movers;
they are not about to
ignore the salesman’s dogma
steaming off the showroom
floor
They know that getting
there is more
than half the fun. This family is tuned
and running smooth. Only a spark gap
separates their
generations.
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