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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