There were some gems in here, don’t get me wrong (the title poem The Blue Buick is masterful), but if I read one more poem about lathes, I was going to toss this over the ridge. I get it, you are a mid-western, blue-eyed, blue collar bloke who has cashed in on all that HARD WORK to sit on his ass and write poems now. Good for you. It was like a Bob Seger album without the benefit of a band. ( )