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Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Mercedes - poem #5 - Michael O'Leary

Mercedes (a mythological tale)

                                    i

. . . these great cars that are chequered in history
evoking triumph and murder, power and destruction
should have been named after some myth or legend
from ancient Greece or Rome

                                    ii

for such is their place in life
they do roam
their parts well oiled and greased
and after a good guzzle of petroleum
are ready to take on the world . . .

                                    iii

at least
this is how we found them
when we zoomed to a halt
up Queen Street on a Friday night
with Benito front-seat driving
chauffeur cap in hand
Baronial and Earlier in back
dishing out beer and cognac
latter-day loaves and fishes
miraculously turning wine into water
- even the car turned blue
an appropriate hue
and crying into the lonesome night
(take that, you old V8 mon!!!)

                                    iv

ragged reggae
just the other day
ten years after
me and my baby
are travelling towards money town
this time the Merc is gold
and I’m travelling, am old
but not shaken, although something is stirred
by her very presence
and she says she feels beautiful
she is young, and I am happy as we
drive together through the end of evening


                                    v

and these great cars that are chequered in history
swastika symbol of up-front power, like der zug
evoking triumph and murder, power and destruction
are also vehicles of aroha and friendship as her hand
tightens delightfully over mine

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