Out of Gas by Arlin Buyert

The door to the old cabin’s musty garage
creaks open and in the early light,
a faded twin hull Bayliner perched

on concrete blocks and
enmeshed with silky webs
sighs a stranded note in a minor key

about waves and water skis, Grandpa
Holm’s fishing pole, Adolph’s tackle box,
Fourth of July, excited children

and blue vinyl seats
cracked wide open, exposing
a dusty refrain of yellow foam rubber.

This entry was posted on January 22, 2012 at 12:03 pm and is filed under Arlin Buyert with tags poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

7 Responses to “Out of Gas by Arlin Buyert”

Jeanie Schiefelbusch Says:
January 23, 2012 at 10:50 am

I can envision the old Bayliner in the the musty garage, and wonder and imagine the memories and tales it could tell us about it’s life. Thanks for sharing Arlin!
Stephanie Henry Says:
January 23, 2012 at 12:45 pm

Arlin, a real strong nostalgic twist. Congratulations. Obviously I figured out how to open it!
Shannon Jung Says:
January 24, 2012 at 2:25 pm

This poem certainly is not out of gas. I can hear the hinges creak.
Thanks, Arlin.
Pat Johnson Says:
January 24, 2012 at 8:36 pm

I can even smell the motor oil, Arlin. Spot on.
Kimi Nelson Says:
January 25, 2012 at 12:04 am

Love the poem, Arlin! Your images are so vivid and bring back many lake memories.
Arlin Buyert Says:
January 25, 2012 at 1:38 pm

Thank you all for your kind words. Arlin.
Bob Dowma Says:
January 28, 2012 at 8:18 pm

Hey, Arlin- Great piece of work! Macalester College took you away from the farm but couldn’t take the farm away from you. As a fellow musician, I loved the “sighs a stranded note in a minor key”. Could actually see the “blue vinyl seats cracked wide open” and the yellow foam rubber.
Your fellow Macalester classmate and basketball teammate. Bob

Rusty Truck