Moses Smash Repair: Jesus Lube and Service 

I’m booked for my hundred year service
To be green and pink-slipped,
re-registered for eternity. 

But I have little urge
for liturgies. My front end
needs re-aligning 

and my ball-joints
need greasing, my bearings
are wearing

my chassis is not classy
and I have become a carcass.
My outer duco is fading away

 my headlamps dim
my indicators fail
my VIN has gone to Vinnies 

and basically I have done my dash.
My odometer is stuck three times round the clock
and my spark plugs lack δυνάμις.

 However I have one spare tyre
that Grishkin gave me years ago
and I hold to its promise of pneumatic bliss. 

DEAR FLANNERY

Dear Flannery,
you’ve been dead since 1964
so I don’t know where you are. But
if you have on your resurrected body
you’ll be free from Lupus. I
thought about you last evening on the main drive
when an agile figure ran by.
I smelled essence of lemons
as if someone drew it from the air
and distilled it in passing. For some reason
it made me think of you. I hope we meet.
Your late reader and fan.

The Road

 Out running I ran into the God.
A portal black with no depth.

 It was a gap in the visual field
A Billboard no more signed than shadow

 I ran though it
and though without depth

the further I went
the more it persisted.

 An ambulance came and took
my body away

 I was not there