Today could be the first time I have ever looked at my car title.
Maybe it’s because I’m working too much and my brain has turned to mush, but I thought it was poetic.
It says, “previously salvaged.”
I thought that was beautiful.
A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
Salvaged is to be saved from some disaster. To be saved and remain useful. I thought of how not only my piece of shit car was salvaged, but how we are. How we live through our rock bottoms and are able to continue on as someone better. The only reason I still have hope in this bleak world is because I know people can change.
Over Christmas, my siblings and I went to the theater and watched “How Do You Know.” The movie is somewhere between fantastic and terrible, but probably closer to the latter. Regardless, there was a part at the end where Paul Rudd tells Reese Witherspoon about Play-Doh.
The point of the story was that we’re all just a tweak away from our full potential. That although now we may be shitty assholes, we can still be salvaged. That one difference would make all the difference.
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.