Batt Anderson

Batt Anderson Poems

The Best Poem Of Batt Anderson

Tape-Mobile

To this day, the coolest car I've ever known was our Ford Falcon.

What I understand now, at the time could only feel, was what made this the coolest car ever—wasn't what the car was—but what my father made it become.

Desperation isn't the word. Defiance isn't the word. In fact, there is no word. It was illusion that came from simple need. Patch the holes. Patch the rust. Tape fixes paper; it must also then, fix a car?

Measly need became might. A transformation. Getting away with something. Giving a joyful grade-school-finger. A challenge to all of Stark County. A challenge to not care.

I pity the fool driving off the lot in his new Beemer, past a car full of howling little league kids, triumphantly cruising in metal and tape. In a car that made no sense to anyone. Not even its passengers. It probably took decades for these poor fools to recover—seeing such pure joy blasting from our blue beast. To realize they aimed high, but should have shot low.

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