Getting Out Of An Automobile

Getting out of an automobile

I sold for scrap I walk eight miles

around a lake, frozen, the snow

so bright, so fine, so white,

the entire world feels purified.

My world, anyway, without that car,

laid up so often travel often

felt like an abstract concept.

And now I am rich.

There is no breeze,

the air so clean it buoys me!

My chest full! My mind! 

Oh! Canada! 

This is air worth walking in,

the price of scrap metal pocketed!