My ‘93 Pete

My writing mainstay has been short Japanese style poems, haiku, senryu and tanka. Ive been experimenting with longer, free verse poems lately. The poem below is about the red truck that is featured on the main page of this site. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.


My ‘93 Pete

I think of my son, a ‘93 Spencer,
and see him as young,
full of energy and potential.
He’s strong and hikes the high peaks.
He inherited my suicidal work ethic.

At 24 years of age, this rattle trap truck,
a ‘93 Peterbilt model 379,
is just as young as my son.
But I see her as aged, tired and worn.
Her days of remaining service are short.
She is still strong, capable, and works
as hard as I need her to.

I’ve named her Bone Shaker,
but I keep that name a secret
to avoid giving her ideas.
She’s a willful one.
She smokes a lot.
She drinks fuel to excess.
She doesn’t like cold mornings.
Not all of her parts work like they used to.

I understand.

When my father was dying, his systems
failing little by little, we brought him home.
He was cranky.
He was hard to get started.
He didn’t like cold mornings.
Few of his parts worked
with any regularity.

But he was loved,
and cared for.

He had valuable lessons to give,
right up to the morning that
he wouldn’t start any more.

So I like this old Peterbilt.
We get along.
We speak the same language.
I keep her going best I can.

Thanks for the lesson, Dad.

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