Beauty is Imperfection

My car was white, hominy and dead in the sun
I had burned out the starter. I had not kept the tank full
She divorced me by dying
And sent me to move over land in a bus’s guts
“We are responsible for our own happiness,”
I said to her as they towed her away
“You were the wise one to leave me.”
So what a shit would I be to say a bad thing about her now
When she’d helped me see how relationships are?
I mean with a car, of course.