Ode to the Lump

I spent summer in my parents’ garage 

practicing mechanical necromancy. 

Initially I knew nothing of engines 

but was blind as I climbed inside 

the carapace of my car’s carcass to carefully 

seek the source of its sorry state. 

Eventually, knowledge accumulated like the oil 

and grease on my face, and soon I saw 

the problem. I pushed parts into place 

and fastened them, and formed myself from 

the lapis lazuli cerulean shell 

of the only home I know and own.