So musty, old and black in appearance;
A small steel casing is its shield
to the dust it flies through and air it separates
Soft on the top, not steel nor cloth
Just a dark shade of processed carbon.
Gaseous of fumes and perforated exhaust,
inside, however, smells of smoke and aging upholstery
as if kept safe in its past to its present
embroidered in the scent it deemed at birth,
of oil and smog and poison.
It’s look, its smell – nothing to its performance;
its ability overshot by its underestimated qualities
as shifts from bottom to top and gains leverage
over the dirt and pavement with astounding capability
considering its age and condition. Though it feels like home,
a place full of welcoming heat, passion and care.