out in my backyard
edged by a tumbled stone
wall my old
and rusted microbus
sits up on blocks,
its wheels long since lost.
a sea of weeds
and wildflowers in bloom
surround the vw
brushing up against
stuck door panels welded
shut from lack of use,
reducing with artful
efficiency utilitarian
dreams of restoration
perennially out of reach
as if its former
glory could ever be
recovered beneath
the faded
paint and patina.
