Email Poem

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Poem

Free wheeling down the hill
chuck-a-bang out of fuel
referring quickly to my map
a gas pump is what I need.

Right at the bottom of the hill
appears a grand and wacky 
garage flying a flag and a sign
fill up here folks your last chance.

Barely making it I pull in
and soon the gas chugs
happily filling up my tank
getting high on the fumes.

Sign says open on café door
I fight my way through
the muddy forecourt
to the ramshackle hut.

Filling up on eggs and grits
total cost comes to ten bucks
walking out I get back on 
backfiring like a ray-gun.

I ride off down the block 
bravo someone hollers
as with clatter and bang
I follow on down the route

Oh yah freedom ahead
as my bike revs loudly
I chug-a-chug down
the famous route 66. 

Old signs a-plenty
diners right out
of the fifty's line
good ole route 66

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