Our car has been autumised.

The late twentieth century shitbox

adjusts to the earth’s quick gear change,

filters reason’s dead flakes between

its meniscus of windscreen & bonnet;

parasites wind-farm through tin gill slits.

Oak leaves finger it. Alien scales shaved

on pre-winters’ kitchen bench. Materials:

organic matter on white metal background.

Our car has the mechanical equivalent

of bowel cancer. Rust cells eat into its arse end.

Salt, the micro-recycler, iron’s crystalline enemy

gives rise to robotic Alzheimer’s - production line

memories. The first time summer turned over.