August 8, 2024Elegy for My 1958 Volkswagen
Beautiful blue beetle,
curved and dumpy, lovely
as a lumpy German mädchen
overly fond of kartoffeln.
Four cylinders chugging
in the rear, it was like being chased
by a busy washing machine.
Air-cooled engine slow
to warm my feet.
I loved how I could tuck it
into tiny San Francisco parking spots.
No gas gauge, just guess
the gas to get you there.
No synchromesh first gear,
no coasting through stop signs.
Small outside, it still thought big.
Record load—seven bags of groceries,
five kids, one friendly neighbor,
two dogs and a pair of bowling shoes.
I sold it. Never realizing
that it prophesied my life—
the inability to pass abruptly,
the slow fade on the long uphill grade.
from #38 - Winter 2012