Poetry: Poems by Claire

Motor Mortalis The loud kerthunk, the quiet hiss -- they mean one thing and that is this: another call to Stocky Stan, all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man. Stan comes with chains and flashing light; my greased and flanneled erudite. He huffs and grunts, reveals his plan. All praise the sweating Tow Truck Man. He'll raise the roadside corpse on high, he doesn't care what made it die -- a snapping belt, a frozen fan; all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man. He packs his cheek with Redman chew, recalls the day my engine blew -- the day our grimy tryst began, all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man. I climb onto his massive truck, lie on the hood and curse my luck. I roll my sleeves, work on my tan, all praise the sweating Tow Truck Man. Copyright © 1995 Claire A. Schaeffer