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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #852584
I’m a headlong screwball.
I draw a bead on home,
drive with a wild hair heartbeat,
keep that needle pricking red zone.

Clouds misty drift across a blue
Transylvania/Carolina moon.
Winds whirl the cockpit
of my top down roadster.
Wolf moon madness on the radio.

Zevon howls:
Ahhhhwwooooo!
Werewolves of London


I have a very fast car!
(to compensate for a small dick)
Well, not really fast, but quick.
(I hold up a magnifying glass when anyone looks)
This car is the finest man-made,
new millennium space age,
I ride yolk safe inside this hurtling eggshell.

I lean my head waaaay back
cock it like a loaded gun
lip-curl sneer,
probe my dark side
see what it feels like.
I’m a headlong screwball.

Radials click-a-click-a-click
embedded reflectors.
How about it, supreme demon?
Give me the push,
Tell me, Do it.

Right before the river,
the marshy stink rises
cement overpass pillar appears.

It gets bigger,
no guardrail,
just a quick twist
signal in my brain executes a motor skill
that’s all it takes
I consider it, consider it
stay straight, too late…

I’ll just drink coffee,
eat a cruller when I get there
all safe secure cozy.
Take me home Warren…

Ahhhhwwooooo!
Draw blood…


© Copyright 2004 Harlow Flick, Right Fielder (wolfgang at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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