I’m stuck behind a cherry-red pickup truck,
its butterfly sticker gleaming with green glitter.
It's a vehicle tramp stamp
from a fifty-cent vending machine.
A rusty relic, a snapshot of the '90s,
rock-hard abs on VHS,
encased in dated slang,
sharp as a Lewinsky joke—
Just do it. Just move. Just drive!
But here I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment