Hop In At our age, we’re all total carwrecks, The Samsonite blown off the trunk, Soiled underwear and dryer burned shirts Tumbling over the highway, loonies freed From the asylum. Whose job it was To tie the baggage down now moot As the coffee stained map ten years Out of date, charting a course on a stretch Of two-lane road turned stripmall. But there you are, lady, thumb up, Cherry licorice stick legs and high beam Smile hoping one more ride, safe passage On a well-lit, smoothly paved freeway To a gated community still on its hinges. I’m not hiding my dented fenders, Defective doorlocks and cracked windshield. Coincidence, but I’m headed wherever You’re going, so hop in, buckle up, find A favorite station on the radio, there’s still Gas in this tank and tread enough to burn.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 02:18:45 +0000