For certain miles we’ve gone on without tires—
sparks fly like gnats the bumper crushes
as radio stations hiss past our ears.
No voice or song satisfies
my bride’s finger always pecking
fast through FM, faster
through the static cracks of AM gospel
and conservative whack-job manifesto.
She veers to miss a green Chevelle
whose driver must’ve cursed like hell—
I’d stop her if she hadn’t tied me down
before she kills herself, or me,
or deputies in hot pursuit
who dream of days like this
in the academy.
She hops a curb, she barrels
through a fence so freshly painted
picket-shaped streaks of white
blur with wipers swiping them away.
The helpless wheel she strangles.
Her knuckles turn to milk. Her luck
is dwindling when a trooper sets the tack strip
which she doesn’t even try avoid
while I beg drowned, louder slow down.
What happened to the classic rock
spinned by jockeys doing lines of coke
to make it through their slot?
I try to tell her things have changed
but she outruns it, outruns cars
whose engines lack the muscle to keep up.
I told her when she spent my pay
we needed something fuel efficient,
but she wanted handling, torque,
to torture me if I got out of line.
The state line in the distance mocking her,
she talks through one last plea:
ma’am pull over or we’re forced to shoot.
Before she pumps her bumper in a tree
and runs off screaming to the woods,
she makes it known they’ll never catch her.
Amazed when at the station
all the officers are curious
just how exactly I put up with her.
Their question makes me love her all the more.
Geoff is now entitled to display the coveted UDPS Charter Member logo on his site, etc., and has Author rights to post verse and images to his heart’s content on the UDPS site! Only Four more coveted Charter Member spots are available. After that, we will still accept (Undead)Poets, but we will have met our (Undead)Lucky 13 Charter Members! There is still time, so “joooiiinnn usss”!