the old girl
the green ford pick-up owed him nothing
in truck years it was far older than he
tires worn, bed rusted, tailgate knocking
he muttered complaints settling on the
worn bench seat tuning in only a.m. radio
hundreds of miles delivering his services to
those who’d pay for freshly painted homes
several new mufflers and brakes over the years
always costing him more but the engine was sound
she never let him down come inspection
still with metal bumpers and adjustable mirrors
some city fella offered cash for this collectable
felt to him like selling a family member
give her up the kids badgered his wife keeping silent
folks knew the old girl waving tooting as he passed
the bond stronger with time both needing new parts
she outlasted him but just barely the boys leaving
the chrome ford emblem on his headstone