LeSabre

A convertible, blue instead of brown, and felt more like a Caddy but I knew it right away. Learned to drive on it. It wasn’t mine then. It isn’t mine now. Down the road I went. Temptation dressed as pleasure in the front seat. She tried to call the shots. Ego in the back seat, just along for the ride. A face from long ago that I almost didn’t recognize. Let him know I did and that he always reminded me of my brother.

She rode low to the road. A bullet. The bridge went to who knows where. It was the horizon. It was a cliff. Didn’t matter. Urgency had the pedal to the medal. The storm in the distance slashed the sky and was exactly right for this trip and these travelers. Even in the parking space and perfectly centered, the long sleek sword blocked the way for another sword that parked instead of going around. They shouldn’t have commented. They shouldn’t have gotten out of the car. They shouldn’t have said they were appraisers. It was too easy for me and Ego. Two bald and briefcased out of shape stooges. Too easy to bash their heads on the hood of even another car and then get back on the road.

My only new Buick went up in flames just as a new year birthed itself back before I really started traveling. Now my drive way is bigger than I need and there is a bike in my carport that knows Red Rock City and looks like a lot like the one from the Sears Catalog that was the answer to all my prayers back when I was just a boy. Now, I am Word Man and folks thought they saw me and they saw my echo while I was quiet and playing with my MasterCard. Let the stories know I ready for them. Hungry for them. I am here inside the words and that is where I belong. I will keep the words and letters coming, boys and girls.

Ladies, keep your legs crossed cause that muffles the siren song. I can name that tune with my eyes closed, my fingers crossed, and without buying a vowel from my crap shooting buddy in any gin joint in any town even when one-eyed Jacks are wild. I am Pogo and know all about Froggy and his Magic Twanger. Got that joke and all the lame ones that followed. Laughed when I should have be learning but learned more than I laughed. Learned to drive in a Buick. Learned to love in a Cadillac. Maybe it was a Plymouth Duster. Doesn’t matter, I learned to love really well…or so I have been told. That guy in the back seat remembers very well and hardly ever forgets a face.