The Oldsmobile Poem by Tony Adah

The man is gone
His ups and down and toils in vain
All that he owned too big
For little abode.
The Oldsmobile which had canon shots
And confetti
When long winding trails
Made marks in our sands
Now lay here rusting peacefully
An abode for rats and roaches
With cracked fore and hind windshields
And the wipers absent like teeth
In a chicken's mouth
Derelict in disuse
The owner gone and this car
Going in instalments.
No canon shots, no confetti
And the Oldsmobile goes silently
All its cigars no longer smoking.