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Friday, April 11, 2014

Little Road Trip Poet

"I spy with my little eye
Something red
Red like a Solo cup
A fire engine trimmed in gold pin stripe
Race car red just a blur upon the track
The color of your face
After you lose your dignity never to get it back"

"Joey, shut UP!
You sound like an idiot
You sound like one of those stupid books at school!"
Sally sat on her side of the car
Staring in rage at me
In a time long before personal headphones
So there was no drowning me out
As I poeticized and romanticized
Every sight I saw without

"Mom!"
I cried out
"Sally is repressing my creativity
Make her stop!"

Mom looked in the rear view mirror at us
First me
Then Sally
"Sally
Let your brother be
He isn't hurting you
You can just ignore him"

The car was quiet for a few moments after that
Just the wind noise along the outside of the five year old Ford sedan
And the steady "Thump-Thump" of the tires upon the highway expansion joints

Then I turned my face towards Sally
Looking right at her
And started up again

"I spy with my little eye
Something very angry
And not just any kind of angry
But an impotent kind of anger
The kind of anger that nothing can be done about........"