Parts of us—
That old blue-gray Plymouth
Sittin’ along a quiet country road
A road less traveled everyday
‘cept for the drag racin’ hooligans
Livin’ over in Partsmith
And the old farmer
Who drives by every Tuesday and Friday
His collie hangin’ out the window
Takin’ last breaths of air
Slowly rustin’ away, bit by bit
Awaitin’ our day of reckoning
Total release from all holdin’ us here
That right moment—
When we disappear
Cease to be the old Plymouth
Then come back again
This time, a ruby red Porsche 911
Poetic Alchemist 