Preparation for Goodbye

After sixty

Everything is preparation

For goodbye.

This came to me

While gazing at the lines

Of a fully restored ’40 Lincoln.

Thinking about it

It is not terribly old

Compared to Roman chariots

In the museum in London.

The magic is

That in such few years

We have streamlined

And techno-wizarded the hell

Out of our vehicles.

That gives the older ones a unique place

Behind velvet ropes.

My lines are not sweeping

And any chrome I had

Is long-ago busted and gone.

My beautiful interior

Is shabby, worn and faded.

I may deserve a rope

But I’ll never merit a velvet one.

Something about that ’40 Lincoln

Settles a sad note

In my heart and mind.

Seems

I’m learning

The language of goodbye.