Dr. Frankenstein you name yourself
as you piece together a 1930 Ford.
Like a patchwork quilt, piece by piece
from bumper to bumper you build.
Books with photos and diagrams
lie open around the house for reference
with stacks of magazines always at hand
for the images of crankcase and fender
you need; for the names and addresses
of dealers of car parts. When you spoke
to a friend long-distance, you mentioned
you’d adopted a car. That said it all.
