A TRUCK PASSES ME
THEN I PASS THE TRUCK
They’re smoking cigars
A few cars behind me
2 middle age bozos
Moving to a rhythm
That is hard to fathom
Their domestic truck
Has a sticker on the
Back window’s
Lower left corner
Something about a police
Or Sherriff association
And the whole border
Smells like burnt grass
Even when I crossed
To the other side
After I got inspected
By a polite agent
(It seems these days
They are nicer than ever)
I can still smell that odor
On the grounds of the trendy
Outlet Stores
I could not find
The right insecticide
At the where—house
So I will have to do
The extermination by hand
It is fun
Like when you
Hold a flyswatter
As samurai sword
And the flies become
Evil enemies
Invading the homestead
The tough guy
With the pin up girl
Tattooed on his
Right arm
Helped me
To find the right screw
For my 5000 watt antenna
You can’t beat the price
When it’s free
On my way back
On the scenic road
Dry hills on one side
Sea… ships… and islands
On the other
I spotted a grey
Japanese sedan fast approaching
On my rearview mirror
I thought it was going to pass me
But it slowed down
And rode right next to my car
On the passenger side
There was a beautiful girl
I looked at her
And she seemed shy
Her companion was
Behind the wheel
His face covered with
Bandages and medical tape
Later on
It was suggested
It was her handy work
