deepundergroundpoetry.com
Ode to Thunder Road
1969 Camaro, red, black vinyl top. baby moons. tires like midnight:
too rebellious for white sidewalls. made for trouble. vindictive ride
of a rock&roll junkie’s lost highway bravura.
six cylinders of subdued horses. not quite the elusive cheetah of the
muscle car jungle. more like a crimson-furred panther.
{how far from obscurity & how near to heaven, when we grip the
guiding wheel & persuade the unhindered gas pedal; when we
cut through the raging wind & speed far from the ordinary in a
roaring manufactured dream.}
young men who consider themselves immortal do crazy things.
screaming across the railroad tracks 1 second before the train got
there, its whistle blaring & calling you dirty names. & old Mr. Death
all upset, shaking his fist at you in the rearview for messing up his
quota again.
daring nights on the strip. high school girls in shop-lifted lipstick, anxious
to make out with cocky James Dean clones, white tee shirts & sideburns.
drag races for pride & hard-earned cash, until approaching sirens scattered
us. running like outlaws high on gasoline & cheap perfume…
…Vietnam vet, crippled by a land mine in a rice paddy, sits at a window in a
steel wheeled chair, watches the bright shiny ghost of a red Camaro cruise by
all happiness & choir of angels in the sky
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