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