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My soul is in for its technical inspection.
I need to have the feelings changed,
the dreams put through their periodic test,
and the tyres of hope pumped up.
“Too many miles
with the engine of the heart revving too high,”
the mechanic angel whispered in my ear.
“And the right wing has play
in the bearing of optimism
and needs welding,” he continued,
rubbing his wings
and putting my soul up on the jack…
I’ll come back after Christmas
to see what stage it’s at,
but until then, the logbook
and the keys to my heart
will remain alone beside a cup of coffee
and a lit cigarette
in the garage on the street of shattered dreams.
(Periodic technical inspection)
Written in 2008