as a young man
on a Saturday, like today.
with sun
and blue skies, i'd wash my car
under a shady tree.
my
marroon 67 camaro Chevrolet.
a bucket of suds.
rags,
and sprays.
inside and out, then the turtle
wax
to give it a shine
with that chamois cloth.
i'd check the oil. the fluids.
i'd adjust
the points using the sleeve
of a pack of matches.
and if I had a date that night,
i'd
hang a little scented christmas
tree from the rear
view mirror. good times.
on a Saturday, like today.
with sun
and blue skies, i'd wash my car
under a shady tree.
my
marroon 67 camaro Chevrolet.
a bucket of suds.
rags,
and sprays.
inside and out, then the turtle
wax
to give it a shine
with that chamois cloth.
i'd check the oil. the fluids.
i'd adjust
the points using the sleeve
of a pack of matches.
and if I had a date that night,
i'd
hang a little scented christmas
tree from the rear
view mirror. good times.
1 comment:
Some day you should talk to your editor about your justification for your line breaks. Just curious to how you read it in your head and what it adds to the meaning of the poem.
--The Ohio Editor
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