Day 5 - I'm Still Alive

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Yes, another poem (with bad blog page title) is here for Day 5 of National Poetry Month.

My parents had a Nash many years ago. Two, in fact, though not both at once. So here is one, in my poem.

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TMI

 Old Mr. Harper, emptying trash,
 Stopped in his driveway, admired his Nash,
 And spotting a smudge
 On the hard metal dash
 Polished it up till it glowed

 When a very small boy
 With a curious face
 Appeared in the chrome
 Of his very big toy
 And asked him, "How does it go?"

"It's really quite simple,"
 He said to the child.
 Then the man scratched his head
 And fondled his dimple
 While thinking out what he would say.

"There's a motor right here under the hood
 That burns up some gas
 To make all the power
 To spin the rear wheels, if everything's good,
 Sending you on your way!"

 Mr. Harper then waited, his breath nearly bated,
 For the boy to respond to his speech.
 But he seemed unimpressed,
 And, though his ego deflated,
 The old man continued right on.

"Perhaps all you need
 To bring you to speed
 Are a few more brief facts,"
 Mr. Harper proceeded
 As the wee lad stifled a yawn.

"So when I twist the key
 The starter will turn,
 Spinning the crank
 In the engine, you see,
 So the pistons will go and not stop.

 Then, before top dead center,
 The spark plugs will spark
 Igniting the fuel,
 Which has already entered
 From the carb that's mounted atop.

 Now, pointing inside
 To a long, black-knobbed lever,
 Said, "Then, using this
 You may easily slide
 The transmission right into gear.

 The gears spin a shaft,
 By the ratio chosen,
 Attached to the wheels
 Placed conveniently aft,
 Of which, you can see, are here.

 With both hands on the wheel,
 You take off the brake,
 Then press on the gas
 With your toe, not your heel,
 And away down the road you will go."

 With nary the hint of a trace of a smile,
 The child looked up at the man,
 Then eyeing the car from the front to the back,
 And speaking not even a word for a while,
 Replied with the question, "So?"

"I'm sorry, dear boy, if I've failed
 To explain all of the workings and mechanical quirkings
 In a way that you might understand."
 He straightened his back, deeply inhaled,
 And rested a hand on the Nash by his side.

 The tiny young boy heaved a big, heavy sigh,
 Shuffled his feet,
 Trying hard not to cry
 Before giving in and rolling his eyes.
"I just wanted to go for a ride."

"Oh."

                      K.R. Smith

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*I'm trying to write a poem each day for National Poetry Month.

 Here are the links to the poems so far:

   Day 1 National Poetry Month - Kick-off
   Day 2 Haiku, For You
   Day 3 A Poem For Free
   Day 4 Wait, There's Even More

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