I saw society had broken down
at the side of the road today.
Steam was issuing from the under
the elevated bonnet. It looked like
it had thrown a rod: oil was escaping
from the undercarriage and contorted
components were strewn along
it's halting, terminal path.

A group of concerned onlookers, with placards,
had gathered to pay their last respects
and stare, astonished, at the plight of
the once chugging old machine.
Engineers scratched their heads
and held emergency committees
to formulate a plan to rescue
the twisted wreckage.

Gone are the days that society sparkled.
The chrome and brightwork polished
and paintwork waxed to mirror finish
by the adoring mechanic pouring hours
into its maintenance. The engine, still full of horses,
cleaned and serviced, cuddled in the bay,
left no visible marks on the cotton
gloves of fastidious scrutineers.

Now it's just another rotten piece of shit,
left to ruin in the elements, caked in dirt,
sticky green lichen thriving in patches,
moss now sprouting in tufts from the soil
congregated in the creases in the body work,
the fading paint cracked and blistering on the
wings, rust puncturing in places
as it is slowly, but obviously, eaten.

So, it'll be towed to its final resting place,
perhaps to be recycled into other
clattering death machines, or twisted
and welding into barbaric art-forms,
uploaded to Reddit for time wasting
and tasteless kicks. But ultimately wasted,
destroyed by time and motion, or
lack of motion, and lack of time.

The sack of Rome by the Vandals began today in 455.

The bombings of cities across the United States of America by Italian anarchists includes a series of 8 simultaneous bombings, today in 1919.