"Device"

What creates the draw?
Some parts still work, I suppose, remain
bright and shiny as the day they were built.
They purr fluently, as though time were no thing.
Other parts don’t fare so well; in fact, they’re
rusted, petrified, atrophied, fundamentally useless.
Demand replacement. Have mucked up
all the workings, and the purr turns to a phlegm-filled
opera of shatterings and metal crunchings.

Is this tow a ghost of once-workings?
Or new oil to the fittings, a second chance machine?
Maybe just cogs pulling obstinately,
determined to work, regardless.
Starting over (the second chance machine!) is feasible,
but it’s so expensive to replace all those parts.
How much should I invest in this jalopy?

Teeth of mechanisms showing, skeleton
now of not-workings. Phantom in material,
reminder of what’s possible and what happened.
Pieces scattered, aluminum bones, white
buttons unpushable. Red lights unblinking.

Is friendship the proverbial two-way street?
Not this one, it’s a vehicle, tires whining on wet pavement,
the engine choking, then the crash--echoes of
percussive interactions. Without defense.

I am afraid to trust this chariot, however certified.
Let’s make this clear: I’m afraid of making the same error again.
But it’s a frame that wants flesh. A construct that wants creation.
A structure that believes I can be a god, that I hold its hope,
that through me, it will achieve something good, or functioning.

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11.16.05
MWL