My
Stars,
The
Neighbors
Have
Dead
Cars.
One
Has
A
Vintage
Truck,
Two
Tires
Flat,
The
Bed
Stacked
With
This
And
That.
This
Wreck
May
Be
An
Object
Of
Love,
But
Saints
Above.
The
Other
Is
Susceptible
To
Rust,
Kept
At
Bay
By
A
Layer
Of
Dust.
I can’t
See
The
Gain,
And
Such
Disarray
Gives
Me
A
Pain.
Broken
Things
Should
Be
Let
Go,
But
I well
Know
The
Affections
Of
Yesterday
Are
Difficult
To
Just
Haul
Away.