Maine roads salt her yellowing paint,
black blades try to scrub the windows
with rhythmic, lullaby mouse squeaks.
The scent of gasoline buries itself in the exposed stuffing,
and the old radio tells stories about fishing in kneeless jeans.
Rust peels off onto calloused fingers.
The door cranks shut,
and she rumbles her way down dirt roads.
I love it when you say, "Maine roads salt her yellowing paint." It reminds me a lot of Maine in that line.
ReplyDeleteI really like the little details you add that the reader can relate to, like the squeaky windshield wipers.
ReplyDeleteAm I guessing that this is about an old truck? You did a great job turning everyday objects and actions into a work of art, I especially liked the part about yellowing paint and salt. I also like how you used the word "cranks" for the door. There are a couple of places where you use "the" when I think "her" could also work but its up to you. Nice job.
ReplyDeletethis is so maine. especially the rust part. i really love it<3
ReplyDelete