’47 Chevy
written by: Bruce Morton
I am that ’47 Chevy parked by the roadside,
For-sale sign propped on the dash behind
The windshield. I can see it has been a while
Since it had been driven to the levee–
Back in the day, so cool. Now its paint is faded,
Psoriatic rust blotches, body bruised and dented
By the road’s dings. It is obvious—needs work, lots,
To restore its looks. You cannot tell what it is like
Under the hood. Or whether it runs at all—pumps,
Valves, pistons, pressure, timing, what else?
Then there is the transmission, three on the tree.
A relic. Probably burns oil–bad rings. The brakes?
Likely worn out from driving down-hill on switchbacks.
Price reflects its age–then there is the “or best offer.”
Bruce Morton divides his time between Montana and Arizona. He is the author of Planet Mort (FootHills Publishing, 2024) and the chapbook Olive-drab Khaki Blues (FootHills, 2026). His poems have appeared in numerous online and print venues. He was formerly dean at the Montana State University library.
Latest posts by Bruce Morton (see all)
- ’47 Chevy - September 13, 2026
- Ecdysis - May 1, 2025
- Liperature - December 7, 2024
