Image: By Sicnag – 1964 Oldsmobile 442 2 door Hardtop, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=45448417
Machine magician, doctor of octane studies, wrench whisperer
Every one of those titles match well with her engine grease pedicure
Changing the blown out head gasket of an Oldsmobile 442
Her wizardry breathed life back into that smoke belching dragon
And by the end it bent to her will, purring with all eight cylinders
Now ready to consume as much blacktop and gasoline as could be reached by the tip of the pedal
It was the masterful application of her sorcery and to celebrate its completion she pushed her mount to the max
Causing twin black streaks as evidence of her passing as she rode the beast into the distance
Living life with the volume cranked to eleven
Obliterating reality around him
Until it is all just white noise in the background
Determined that his echo will be heard long after he was gone
Slicing through all the bull that was in his way
He cut to the heart of the matter with his acerbic wit
All the while looking damn good doing it
Reaching for a his negroni he took a satisfyingly bitter sip
Punctuating a perfect performance
Furiously looking for the punchline
Underneath the dross of reality
Nothing there could tease an honest chuckle out of his lips
Nothing warmed his shivering cold soul
Yet his comedy gave the world what he could never have
Bright eyed and bushy tailed was how they described her
Until that one morning she cracked and decided to punish their sin of sloth
Now she took their breakfast, camouflaged it, then hid it, forcing them to work for it
Never again did they miss a sunrise in her house
You could say she was pretty hard boiled after all!
Reading through the want ads looking for something to do.
Everyone wanted experience, and I haven’t done the time.
Perhaps in the past I would have lied and tried my best.
Learning what I could before I was given my parole.
And applying that knowledge to the next economic sentence.
Can’t believe no matter where I go, there I would chains waiting.
Eventually the robots will come and take all of it away.
Destroying our way of life and setting us free, but to do what?
Character acting her way through life
Anyone who knew her would find out they didn’t really know her
She was that good at putting on a performance
The only thing that was real was her curtain call
Flashing that killer smile, she absolutely enjoyed watching her effect on the Y chromosomes
Of course, she showed none of this. She was a mature woman, in full control of her domain
X chromosomes for the win
Getting through the tight squeeze called life was always a challenge
As her whole existence had been between a rock and a hard place
Perhaps that’s why she was able to surprise them when she cracked her world and began to fly
Dirt on the floor intermingled with peanut shells and spilled stale beer
It gave this old run-down bar a certain je ne sais quoi
Vacuuming up those plummeting through the floor of their lives
Enabling them a place to splash down while mumbling “Bottom’s up.”