THE DIESEL MECHANIC
First came the tremors,
which lasted for ten years,
then the fumes finally killed him
and he shuddered to a halt.
They put him in a meat wagon.
Later, they installed him in a hearse
and drove him to Eternal Park,
overlooking the freeway.
And there he idles,
"Because the earth is spinning, the wind
When I die of complications from having been
alive, if I must go slowly, I want my slow
signify something. I want there to be a
I can fit all suffering and sorrow into: I,
spent myself seeking one. And if I simply
over and disappear, I want the truth to bend
around the shadow of an object at rest.
Pete Lee lives with his wife Kelly in
Ridgecrest, California, a small town in the
Mojave Desert midway between Mount Whitney
and Death Valley. His poetry has recently
appeared online at Right Hand Pointing,
Armada, Perigee, Unfettered Verse, and The
Orange Room Review.