With thanks to Billy Collins

the first time you
and your new sportscar
took smartly to the road
the highway stretched
long and far across the miles
into the red and purple sunset
and you knew how high you felt
as you barelled down the road at break-neck speed
laughing as you went
until the black and whites
with their rotating bubble gum machines
pulled you over to the side
just one stop of many
that would take you across
raging rivers and calm blue lakes
up and down mountain passes
between their jagged peaks
over hills of crumpled velvet
with gesticulating trees reaching out for you

no matter the sheen of the polished paint
no matter how many times you wax
rust and dust eventually
eat away and cover what once was new
and though the meter measures
insufficient miles to slow this doozy down
it suddenly stops dead

still turn the key another time
when the purring of the engine starts
come open the door and I will ride with you
until the turn of the bend
where you must go beyond
and where I cannot...