Pickup Poetry

An Ezra Stevens Original

Here is a tale of hemi-heartbreak. After three years together, my self-driving pickup truck had enough. In the middle of the night, it collected its stuff, pulled out of my garage and power-steered out of my life forever. A few days later I got a text saying that it wanted to explore new roads without me.

My life and my commute have come apart. How do I fill the empty parking spot in my heart? Tow, tow these hurt feelings away, I don’t care how much I have to pay. Why did my truck have to go away?

I wish I could put time in reverse and flip a U-turn on my pickup’s broken heart. I would do everything differently. I would buy the extended warranty. Check her engine every day, rotate her tires, and practice all her suggested routine vehicle maintenance. Do whatever she desires.

It was a light duty truck, but it gave me heavy heartbreak.