Leaving the highway for the curvy rural lane
Moonless pitch-black night returning
From Rome to the heart of its green belt.
Where the countryside seduces farmers
With shiny nuggets on primeval trees,
Mediterranean gold, liquid olives
To be harvested and milled.
Up for bids to the greatest connoisseur,
Sabine hills the scenery of ancient Roman wars,
Where oil was not the only virgin to be picked and sold.
Sabine hills the refuge of deserters and the set,
Of my Romeo’s exhale after fixing its spark plug.
My lover at the steering wheel, my brother at the back,
Myself on the passenger seat listening to music
Smoking dreams away. ‘Smells like something’s burning’
A comment from the rear, to which the driver promptly
Responded ‘Your sister just lit a cigarette’.
Temporarily satisfying the doubt,
‘It’s getting hot in here’ was the next remark.
To which the patient answer followed
Blaming me once more. ‘Your sister just turned
the heater on’ And it made sense until
Few minutes later, flames burst out of engines
Glimpsing from the sides of a bonnet melting.
‘Stop and run for your lives!’ the unspoken words
And so I did, looking back only when I reached
A distance to see, my beloved brother attempting
To escape blocked by child safety locks for absent kids.
Turning down the window to jump out,
Dukes of Hazzard style. By the time
The police and fire fighters arrived,
Nothing but the steal incandescent skeleton
Was left of what once was my first car. Paid for
It two years still, until the last instalment
Made me laugh about it ever since.
My brother not so much.
[Featured painting: Car_1 by Goce Ilievski @saatchiart]