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Internal Combustion

Driving the old Mercury;
eight cylinders of relentless motion,
with windows down to the tempest
I feel every familiar mile on this highway

Searching my memory for a clue;
anything to explain the chasm of your absence
But I know that sometimes meaning, for us,
was a language we just could not master

The chrome-steel beast, unencumbered by doubt,
seeks only the next mile on the dark highway,
while I can’t tell a tear from the rain

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Another poem with a car motif. Sheesh, some might think me a gearhead (which I am most certainly not!), but I do love vintage cars. Thank goodness for good mechanics, LOL!
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

I don't know about genius T, but thank you, and glad you liked this one! I changed the title shortly after posting, so seems like a good move. Original title was "Chopped '49", but I felt that was a bit too gear-heady, and less connected to the feeling of this one.

Sorry to hear about the covid stuff in Tuscany - please be safe!

Best

Michael Anthony

author comment

a deep, emotional connection with this one. I too, have owned those big, heavy, eight-cylinder cars and kind of miss them. The tears in the rain is the best line of the poem. Your title is great, and being kind of a gear-head, it drew me in. Nice work! ~ Geez.
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Always appreciate your visits Geez! See my comments to T about the title - glad I changed it.

Best

Michael Anthony

author comment

Hi Anthony, I'm not an expert on vintage cars, but I love to see them, mostly in movies. Your poem brings it all close and clear to me. I agree that not telling a tear from the rain is the best line.
The new title is excellent, the spacing is perfect IMO and the internal logic as well.
Enjoyed, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Hi Gracy! I'm no expert either, but like you, I love to see them too. Thanks for the time, and sharing your thoughts on this piece - always much appreciated!

Best

Michael Anthony

author comment
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