Cash for Clunkers
A Poem for Rosh Hashannah
Hitch your rusty old heart to the tow truck
(We’ve got an old 8 track of Yossele Rosenblatt Sings Holiday Favorites up in the cab.)
Chains of prayer pulling you along
the glass walled showroom by the old highway
a red neon “open”
Plastic banner whipping in the wind
Gates of repentance marked by an “ENTER” arrow, slightly bent.
And here you are,
Your clogged heap,
Your worn tires,
Your gunked up insides.
Do you even accept my make and model?
Blast your horn nine times.
Collapse on your steering wheel for one long and holy honk.
Open the glove compartment and recite the words in the Owner’s Manual:
Forgive us, have mercy on us, atone for us.
Close you eyes and the new year lies before you.
It’s a 5770.
And it is clean.
And it is pure.
And it sparkles.
And it smells like new car.
And the odometer reads
“you have more life to live”
So where are you heading to?
-Daniel S. Brenner