The Old Rusty Car

Walking through a field one day

amongst the old wrecks that lay

rotting into the ground,

I happened upon a pile of rust

in the shape of a car.

What history lay here, in front of me

grass growing through the floor

bird droppings on the smashed windshield

seats ripped and torn and blood stained.

The front bumper was bent in the middle,

as if it collided with a tree.

Inside I seen candy bar wrappers and pop bottles and a broken toy

a baseball hat, a broken bat, and a skipping rope on the floor.

And beneath the driver’s seat I spot the culprit

an empty whiskey bottle.





2 thoughts on “The Old Rusty Car

  1. So, I assume this wasn’t your old rusty Corolla.
    This is your second recent ‘save the congregation’ post. First smokes, now booze. How we abuse ourselves. 😦

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