Ode to Lanolin

Ode to Lanolin

Father Winter blankets fields
To hearths we huddle, stoves alight
Town crews madly plot and cackle:
“Salt upon the streets to-night!”
O, fact’ry brake lines! Sweet suspension!
Bolts now stuck with pluck and zill
Beware buyer; not one question
‘Bout what lurks ‘neath trim and grille
Hold this oilcan - join my prayer,
Mourn with me for what’s been lost -
Alloys steep’d in baths of zinc,
amply seeded magnetite,
and showroom-quality exhaust.
Sacrifices have been proffered
In grade of stock, and thickness too
And these potholed northern backroads
Pity not the Subaru
Thus we struggle ev’ry winter
Pinch welds, wheel hubs, pipes and frames
Surely, some sly shadetree sparkplug
Can
If only someone would invent
A dip or sauce or little bath
Then our jalopies, fearlessly,
Could careen down salted paths
O, blessed day!
O, holy product!
Shorn and pressed and primed to spray
Retrieve the can and chant the mantra,
Now a rust-free car we make:
“Lan-o, lan-o, lan-o-lin,
Help me while I do these brakes -
With ample goo from oily sheep,
Reduce mine scale; mine chunks and flakes”
This liquid gold, I learned today,
Requires zero slaughtering
To reap from floofy jiggly bearers
Such a priceless offering
So spray with zest and confidence!
You plant-based friends - and hunters too
Though tragically, the vegans may,
Unsheepishly decline the goo.

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Zack Gomez, 2026