Ode to the La Macina Macchina
Ode to the La Macina Macchina
By Jodelle Marx
She wears her wrinkles with middle of the road indifference
Curvy lanes and tight traffic
She is the star and director of this show
“Do not rush me” she says
If you turn the key too quickly
La Macchina left her “hurry up”
In the driveway of 1999
Cardboard tree tied to her air vent
Ashtray full of cigarette butts
Dome light taped to the ceiling
she has hip pain
Her paint is a well loved book
Seats worn like dogeared pages
She cruises through town with a cyclical squeak
Hip pain and clicking joints
That draw the appraising eyes
Of men who chat on their mother’s doorsteps
Exhaust pipe held to her lips
She puffs and rolls on.