***

And now — a fallen world,

The Saturn just another car, used, damaged, compromised

No longer worthy of respect, love, repair

Doomed to be severed from my life, like so much else

Today's mechanic, lively, Latin

Cheers on the end game, loudly laughing

Full party mode behind his drooping mask

Chuffed, it seems, to see me sane at last

Though the Saturn does still go, it's not quite safe

(Though . . . what is?)

Not safe — especially in Covid time

(Though ditto)

Sometimes not shifting out of park

So unpredictably immobilized

Permeable, more and more, to our unending rain

Secretly sideswiped by some plump truck

Travelling our skinny street by night

Outside mirror housing struck, broke

Left dangling sadly down

In day's grey light — fixed up by me

More than once, with thick grey metal fibre glue

Worked well enough, though not exactly elegant

And not as strong, of course, as it once was

(What is?)

So no more auto-car-wash days — turned out

The thrills of hard-pulsed water, whirling brush, hot wax

All far too muscular for hand-done fixit work —

Attacked as well by dauntless dimwit thieves

(Why this car, smallish, sensible, nothing within to steal?)

Three times by night right after husband's sudden death

Repeated brutal bashings of the locks

(Why? Why? Why now?)

'Til they destroyed them, first one, then both

Stalwart Saturn, car stayed locked, stayed true

But damaged locks became inoperable, unlockable — or,

If locked up from within, as people do, when exiting

Impenetrable from without to their own black-fobbed key

Impossible, therefore, to open, to re-enter

Except by summoned car club guys

Or smarter thieves with better skills. . . .

With Saturn shut down now

Such locks, they said, impossible to replace

So to be inside the Saturn, to drive out

Ever more problematic, ever more unsafe

(Though . . . what isn't?)

With covid era autoclub no longer "giving" rides

(A pricy paid-for gift, of course)

To stranded members , waiting all alone

By much-loved car in rain or snow while breathing,

Despite compliant garb of gloves and masks

***

Final part of "Saturnalia" — part 3 — follows.