by Susan Day Campbell

Created on: May 20, 2008

Ode to a 1990 Taurus

(We no longer have this car, but its memory lives on.)

Starting - for cars - is essential,

Trustworthiness quite quintessential.

I insist my car start

Without stutter or fart -

A requirement not inconsequential.

So I bribed it with gifts, fine and classy,

Like gas, oil and bling for its chassis.

That sedan looked quite meek,

But it masked a technique

To conspire with mechanics. How brassy!

I bought it a spanking new starter.

(Cause the garage did not countenance barter.)

A mechanical dork

Tried to rev up its torque,

But no luck; it still acted the martyr!

And when it became, like, all snooty,

I lavished upon it more booty:

A new engine block.

(For that I sold stock!)

But it still didn't give one darned tootie!

That Taurus, a malingering faker!

A devious, expensive heart-breaker.

It had sleazy affairs

In mechanic-shop lairs,

So I ditched that two-faced trouble maker!

*

Okay, for all you real poets out there...

I know it's not an ode; it's a limerick. But "ode" has more literariocity, so I took just a little poetic license. So sue me! Hey, cars require a license, don't they?

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