Dad's Old Truck

Rust bucket,

Old beast,

Gas hog,

Square body,

chipping blue and white paint,

Frame rusting out like the brittle bones of an aged man.

The key turns,

Pistons rise and fall,

Their precise choreography drumming out a roukus song.

Roar to life like a great lion,

Set to your work like the ox beneath the yoke,

Pull against the dirt of the earth like the horse in the harness.

Look inside and see the core of the machine,

If not perfect, at least beautifully simple.

A heart with eight valves and a black circulatory system.

Ancient, perhaps to the point of classic,

But still moving with the vigor and strength of prime,

This old truck has stories to tell, and many more to create.