“Broke Down”

No matter how many times
you put your hand in your pocket
You still have eighteen cents.

No matter how many times
you dial the cell phone number
It just keeps ringing

No matter how many times
you turn the ignition
It still grinds then clicks.

No matter how many times
you turn your head
You see no cars on the empty street.

No matter how many times you look up
The face is watching from the window.

 

Art:  Dave Reinbold
Poem:  James Reinbold
© 2013