Its wheels were like my colleagues, rolling their eyes.
Its doors like my students, slamming shut the possibilities.
The paint, the same color as the librarian's blouse.
The grille, just like one student's braces.
Windshield? Clear, like the tea I sometimes drink.
The back seat, full of McDonald's wrappers, evidence of society's disdain for education.
In the trunk, the body of a drifter who I later buried behind the college's football stadium.
I was going to criticize the poem but your last line makes me reconsider.
ReplyDeleteA fitting tribute. As an aside, I'll add that my adviser drove (and probably still drives) a car like that!
ReplyDeleteYou know there's an APB out for that car now in all states. LOL.
ReplyDeleteROFL.
ReplyDeleteThnx.
That car makes mine look positively young.
ReplyDeletePeople seem so preoccupied with the last line. Isn't anybody else wondering why Richard is so aware of the color of the librarian's blouse? There's a story there, I think (or, alternatively, a sexual harassment suit waiting to be filed).