remembered green — a tiny poem

carved curvilinear, chrome

captured clean

crisp green men

drove

families, ranged, roved

the land opened 66

the neat click of the locks

the men driving

the safety of that

tucking the families in

my grandfather

in his mercedes

opening the doors for my grandmother

and for me

the clicklock of inside

the thick metal protecting

all chrome were his days and ways

all whitewall, white washed tires the roundness

of the rims

those statuesque curves

that cruised the city

* a start on a thought about a poem  I saw this fab car down near Padaro at what used to be Santa Clause Lane in my childhood.  They took away the Santa and this is the new sign for down there…

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