oil change

 Oil Change
I’m not a poet never was, but I like to tell stories
Most of the stories are for my inner ear,
But for some reason my collections are called poetry.
I’m a practical chap, just changed oil in my car and
Filled up the coolant, which is pink coloured.
Later I will drive to the local garage and see if the tyres
Have the right amount of air, and then clean the car.

When I write about carob trees and my special tree
The almond, which in my mind, strews flowers on mine
Fevered often walked track,  I do so in tenor like oiling
The hinge of a door or hammer a long nail into a wall,
Nothing can be less poetic. In Kaleidoscope once I saw
My future lover’s face, can that be called poetry?