Poetry

I had an almost red

Not quite

Mustang

When I turned 17

Almost 18

Not quite

She kept me warm

Well, dripping sweat

On hot July nights

Where I’d cover my head

And hide

In the back seat

Of that mustang

Until right before

Sunrise

I was safe

In that dirt parking lot

Behind work

No

I was not

But

For once

No on one knew

My secret spot

Go home

Face the demons

Or

Not

Stop

Hold that thought

Demons at home

I just realized

Why I never sleep at night

Someone asked me the other day

“Didn’t you have an old red mustang”

Red?

Not quite

But yes

I wish I’d driven her further from town

Past that dirt parking lot

To the west coast somehow

I could have outrun those demons

Still hunting me down

I’d go

If I still had that mustang now.

8 thoughts on “Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.