Trunk life

Wednesday the Today Show had a segment on automobile tires. They said that even if never used, tires could still blow if they are six years old or older. Yikes! So, I checked my tires, and sure enough, they are six years old (there's a number right next to the rim that's four digits long, the first two digits are the week, the second two the year). So, I guess I'll add new tires to my list of money draining expenses this spring. Hooray!

Anyway, I was also reading Writing to be Read by Ken Macrorie this week for one of my seminar courses and thought I'd try a little of his advice. Originally, this poem was a series of three haiku (per Macrorie's advice), but I didn't like them. So, I switched it up. I'm still not thrilled with the piece so far, but I took a clue from Paul Valery ("A poem is never finished, only abandoned") and stopped tinkering with it. Ah, well....

Tires expire.
Of course they do
if driven 80,000 miles
with nary a rotation—
other than the obvious
round and round
to reach each destination.

Tires expire
from staying in storage
or languishing in cars’ spare vault.
They have a shelf life—
well, trunk life.

Wait, that’s untrue.
Tires don’t live.
They never toil in an office,
never hook up with others
at the local coffeehouse,
never birth a little Michelin
or a chunky Goodyear.

But if not removed from service,
replaced with a younger model,
recycled to another use,
tires will disintegrate,
even as the wheels continue revolving.

At a certain point in their career,
tires must retire.
If only that moment is recognized
and embraced entire.