Thirsty Cars

Those steep, tiring hills going home, I had been in town bought a new kitchen sink, the second one in forty years, nothing lasts, that’s how traders make their ill gotten gains. My car was exhausted trailing smoke, to lighten its burden I alighted walked in front as it followed me slowly. On a flat stretch it teasingly overtook and drove in front of me and down a track into a deep ravine where feral donkeys live and run unlicensed garages I wasn’t in the mood to play “follow the leader, ” so I walked home past wayside bars where cars guzzled Brazilian cane fuel and flashed their indicators, I ignored this depravity and hasted away. Midnight, when my car pulled up outside, it had lost the kitchen sink and was splattered in manure of the long eared members of the horse family.