Without my car,
I'd go crazy.
I'd have no place to be.
It's not that I'm here,
it's not that I'm there.
It's the fact that I'm moving
that's me.
I like that it signals.
And no one else does.
I like that fluid sprays
over the side.
I like that I go fast
I like that I go slow,
but mostly I like the sound.
So never take my car.
I'll offer my wallet,
which would jacked on the
anyday in a minute.
TCS, ABS and that's all
it's got, but if I ever get
stuck I'm out in a rush.
Winter tires are for losers.
Thursday, November 27
Without my car
Posted by John at 11/27/2008 08:01:00 PM
Labels: poetry
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