Car Poem

By Michael Daines

 

 

My response to this poem is I found it to be interesting. The most machines I am into are cars and bikes. This poem is about a guy and how he drives his car. He talks a lot about how he drives it. He likes to leave marks on the roads and that kind of stuff. By the sounds of this poem, he loves how he drives it and he drives it hard.

In each stanza, Michael talks about something new about how he drives.

 

Below is the poem I have chosen.

 

 

By Michael Daines

it's as obvious
as if my car's tires
were always kept sponged

with white paint, and I
drove on only dry roads, and
you could see all the

tread marks from sudden
stops and tight corners, and all
parking and speeding,

all the slingshots of
passing, arcs between the lanes,
and my highway route

out past Canmore, my
hand'ling on the parkway, over
the cliffs to Golden,

and steady cruising
after the time zone divide,
that low wide valley;

you could learn to
read, from my treads, the
angle of clutch

and my gas pedal
pressure and my gear box grip,
and what hold you have

on me.