39 Buick

I dreamt I owned a 1939 Buick.
Later, I realized I did not,
but wondered:
could tommy-gun wielding
gangsters still be historically relevant
without running-boards?

A very cool car,
just ask Humphrey Bogart;
he had a 38 special
and knew how to use it.

I want to tell bogie, I understand
the need for running-boards,
the Fedora, the trench coat - the pose;
one leg on the board,
the lip-hanging cigarette,
the world weary eyes,
the choice of car - the whole works.

I dreamt I drove a ‘Prius',
a nightmare on a skateboard, 
still a car is just a car, right?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace