Drivin’ Low on route 66

Drivin’ low on route 66

life began at 65

pickup sticks

missin’ kicks

drivin’ round

hear that sound

makin’ ground

thinkin’ back

four score years

spillin’ tears


and booze

wasted years

should’ve done

more at school

listened to

all those fools

hands not meant

holding tools

pickin’ up speed

wind blown hair

feelin’ a need

remember ma and pa

call me grandpa

whistling by

crimson sky

lighting up

smokin’ large

Havana bound

comin’ down

gettin’ near

(last cold one

between my legs)

on the floorboard


bottles warm

stacked up neat

piled high

at my feet

clankity clank

(12 sober versus

24 drunk and cross-eyed)

hands on wheel

I count four

steer me home

barking dogs

rumbling exhaust

feelin’ lost

turn off key

garage bound

where I park

closing door

silent and dark

is the night




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