Our Steam-Driven Lives

Insert the wrench, grab it tightly,

And ratchet, ratchet, turn, ratchet – remove.

Push the clutch and rev.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump

A jumpstart to our industrial heart.

Gears spin, wheels turn, pistons fire.

Metal clanks, fuel burns, a belch of exhaust.

Our engine is running.

But open us, test us, check if we’re working,

Remove the hood and inside you’ll find

Wires, frayed and stripped-

Spark plugs, worn and misfiring-

Cogs, overly greased by perpetuated false hopes-

Units corroded by the abrasive monochromatic

Colors of our steam-driven lives.

Too much gas and the machine floods.

I saw a man once – battered and beleaguered,

His paint faded and grayed,

His gears rusted and squeaking,

The timing of his engine skipping and off-beat.

I saw in his stalled movements

A premonition-

A foggy glimpse at what just might be.

A saw a future in which my generation,

Bright, shiny new dreamers,

Achieved our hopes,

Fulfilled our destinies,

Conquered the world,

And aged.

And our zinc coated dreams corroded.

Our futuristic models out-dated.

Replaced by shinier, more reliable makes,

And our engines turned to dust.

And I turned to the man,

With his cracked carburetor,

And asked,

“What were you?”

And he looked at me,

With eyes just like mine,

And replied in tin-tones,

“I was you.”