Plastic Model T

by Samuel De Lemos


When I was a kid
I worked on a
plastic Model T
I got as a gift.

While, my Mom and Dad
were watching a
documentary of
Auschwitz on TV.

“Come see this show”, my Mom said.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Mom”,
I replied.

Back to the plastic model
I went, with fervor
and determination
glueing, snapping and
painting piece by piece,
following every instruction

“You’re missing the show”,
she yelled from
the living room.

I could hear the sound of the
train carrying the crowd,
I listened as the solemn voice of
the narrator described
the inevitable.

I could sense how
the the black and white
film, old and tarnished,
chronicled a people’s-
final ride.

I would have liked to
experienced the sadness
of the spectacle, snuggled
next to my mom.

But I didn’t.

My Model T
Needed its rubber tires
snapped on…

Inspired by William Carlos William’s poem,
This Is Just To Say