Yesterday’s poem written before a long drive through some yucky weather. Too heavy to be called mist, too light to be called rain. Just wet enough to make the roads fun to drive on and seep into everything.
This morning’s poem brought to you from that “I don’t know where this is coming from” part of my mind. I’m honestly not sure if it’s a form of insight or simply my attempt to process everything that’s going on lately in the world. There just seems to be so much…
More car problems this morning. There’s never really a good time to have car problems but the timing on ours could be so much worse. My bride’s Bug is leaking oil from somewhere, it’s dripping all over the place and the entire undercarriage is coated. It’s going to cost extra just to get it all cleaned off so the mechanics can even find the leak.
Naturally this got me thinking about oil and our relationship with it. It’s kind of morbid when you get down to it. We’re burning the remains of dead animals to power our machines. We are modern day necromancers, which I’d think would be a lot cooler if every story out there didn’t end so poorly for the necromancer.
My check engine light came on yesterday. Never a good sign nor a good feeling. Wrote this in the waiting room while our modern day wizards work their magic and cast their electric spells on my machine.