Three short lines set two very different things side by side: the sound of a German engine, probably a BMW, since "Bimmer" is slang for one, and a conversation about a miscarriage. The poem never says who is speaking or who is listening. Judging by the title, we might imagine a car ride, but that is an inference, not something the poem states.
What stands out is the phrase "matter-of-fact discourse." The loss is discussed in a flat, practical tone, much like the machinery the title points to. The speaker doesn't announce a feeling, but the choice of words suggests unease, maybe a quiet ache at how calmly something so painful is handled. The engine's smooth efficiency seems to echo that evenness.
The mood is cool, restrained, and a little chilling. Because the poem says so little, the gap between the mechanical precision and the human loss is what lingers. The grief is felt mostly through what is held back.