David Allen writes

THE END OF RENNIE

And so it goes,
Rennie has blown up
and I left to ponder
the question of existence
once more.

What was weird
this time was
I wasn’t mad
that my ancient Renault
left me abandoned
on the highway.
Maybe it had something
about the Zen book
I was reading.

When the engine conked out,
making loud clanking
and whirring noises,
oil blowing its way
from the engine compartment,
soaking the hood,
splattering the windshield;
weird looking pieces of metal
sticking up from where
they didn’t belong;
I didn’t get mad.
Instead, I kicked the front fender
three or four times,
sat down on the curbside
and erupted in a fit of laughter.

Another roadblock 
challenging me.
But I didn’t fret.
I probably didn’t need
to go to the city
anyway.

 

 Cowboys und Indianer -- Markus Oehlin