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It Was A Choice
The broken car faintly hums,
reminding me of our favorite parking lots.
Instead of them, I am parked on the isolated hill, watching the road.
I laugh at those who never thought they'd break down.

These wheels, no longer able to turn,
are lost without their function.
But I can't help but empathize with them,
being abandoned by choice, not neglect.

Most would repair their inoperable vehicles.
Choosing to cover up the work of ruin, trying to rebuild.
But this one remains still, lifeless.
A weathered, shattered, and forgotten memory.

I stay on this desolate hill with the car,
accompanying it as we stare at the highway below. 
Totaled cars never receive their repair,
and so we watch as the cars fly by.

© Robert Taylor