Such
a classic
spin
that old
blue Oldsmobile
rounding the curve
rotating back
down the same road
again and before
beaming with
invisible
familiarity
leaving
oil stains
down
boulevards
sewn with
uneven
seams
Five days
a week
over and over
I watched him
go to work
and return
the same
blinding spin
I was a kid
but I had
so many
questions
maybe
too much
for our frozen
civilized
echoed
tones
Next thing
the old
picture frames
started rusting
from years
of being buried
in shame
and in the
morning light
I saw his
faded image
bleeding colors
finally blurring
years of
well polished
eyes