The Oil Burners

written in response to the ancient automobiles that ply many of the streets of Cuba

Soviet, German, Swedish, new World,
Spewing incomplete combustion.

Fin cars with post-production lights,
They sound and smell like things are loose.

They rumble by, their dark blue smoke,
It fills the air, and makes me choke.

There is no rhyme or reason,
That it should thus be so.

This smoke signals injustice,
From when they took a stand.

Reviews

[Honey-Bee]

A vivid picture of ancient automobiles with smoke signals. I can here the sounds they are making as they rumble down the road. Nice write!

[Coyote Poetry]

You did create vision of old places and cars. I was station in Central America often. Your poem took to the big cities with cars barely surviving. But they do. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote