The World According To Ben Part 8 ..Our Poet El-Fantastico Remembers A Barn Full Glorious Relics And

“Mausoleum”(Automatic Free Verse)

This was in the early Eighties, As I recall. On a tip from a “Friend Who Knows” (We all have them, right?), I turned right instead of left Upon leaving a client meeting At the (then) Brand spanking new, Tastefully architected, Gracefully landscaped, Lavishly swan-ponded, Obsessively lawn-manicured Business park In the formerly agricultural Outskirts of the city.

At the very eastern Edge of the property Stood a stone barn. Anachronistic, yes, But otherwise just as Disney pristine as The rest of the park. It sat at the end Of the park’s only Unnamed road, Its presence partly shielded By a few old-growth willows The landscapers left standing.

I wheeled my car— A Corvair, of all things!— Behind the barn, Found a door with windows, Parked, Gingerly sidled up to said door, Shielded my eyes from The bright sunlight, And peered inside. My heart leaped and sank Simultaneously. As rumored, the barn was Full of fabulous automobiles. Duesenbergs, Cords, Rolls-Royces, Packards, Auburns, Cadillacs, Bentleys, Lincolns, Isotta Fraschinis, Delahayes, Standard Swallows, Hispano Suizas, The odd Ruxton here and there…

All arching fenders… Tail-strapped trunks… Wheels of wire and wood… Spare tires dangling from sides and rumps… Impossibly wide whitewalls… Chrome headlight buckets or bullets Or billets, possibly… And those wet-slick, rich-thick Candy store colors That wealthy folks loved In the Thirties and Forties.