1971 Pontiac Le Mans (poem)

  

Thanks to Eva H.D. for the Thomas Bolt poem, 

from The Paris Review, issue 109 Winter 1988

1971 Pontiac LeMans

Auto in sunlight: every trace of gloss
Is dulled a rusting green.
Even the fenders are a dirty chrome
Which blunts light like a pine log;
Still, it runs.

This is the car someone abandons
At a grassy roadside,
Like an old punt, rotten-hulled.
Sunk in river muck above the seats.
Near this realization.

It will do 90 still.
Or, filled with gasoline, will drive all night
Toward any destination;
It can kill.
This is the real world

AL: We posted the 1971 Le Mans (above) from Maine 

where we also found a 1968 Pontiac Le Mans convertible