Dotty Armstrong
Donating My Car
Twenty-two years of driving
this car, a geo metro
that they don’t even
make anymore. The one
where I used a tiny paint brush
to cover scratches and decided
a couple of years ago,
“No more major repairs”,
only gas, oil
palliative care.
It is drivable but has
been sitting idle
for months. Even a car
longs to be useful,
I think, as I drive away
in the one car we use now.
But the new car
does not have the marvelous
collection of stickers
on the fender, especially
“NO IRAQ WAR”
That shows how the car and I
can see through fibs.
How many times did I drive over
Snoqualmie Pass to Yakima, delighted
by NPR’s airing of Brahms’ Fourth Symphony
or Handel’s Water Music
on the Geo’s rinky-dink radio.
It was scratchy but we soared,
the car and me. That’s why
I am giving it to you, NPR.
I know you will use the money
for exquisite music
to cheer any driver
in any old car.
Leon Petty
Courage
Am I afraid
Oh yes I am
Fear is the poisoned palate
handed down to all of man
Courage may be slow and may be fast
moving expeditiously
naked courage ambles through
the blurry greater powers that be
Nursing on both fear and need
courage can stop
but cannot turn away
Stymied by the self it sees
Challenged by the path it walks
courage tortures till it gets its way
Courage is not big and is not small
Enigmatically greatest
in the mouse that fights another day
Dedicated to the fated task at hand
courage in essence lacks humility
Courage cannot see itself
and never once can be complete
Like orgasm it gives relief
but rapidly will be again
thrust staggering into the breach
Courage must face its nothingness at last
laughing at the atrophy of all it’s done
and loathsome laughing at the young
Fleshy and ephemeral
courageously, courage can’t go on
and terms its shadowy surrender
onto the juggernaut of dawn