Beetle
It was just a 1964 Beetle
dressed in its finest
VW red;
the best car
on the road,
spin on a dime,
driv’in half a mile on fumes
with three spark plugs;
yes I said three spark plugs,
don’t you know the forth
wouldn’t stay plugged in,
it popped out every time and
rattled around instead.
Another mile and a half
of sheer magic
and all mine.
Her taste for winter spent
and the drip, drip, drip
of rain on my head
from the ripped sunroof;
frosted on the inside,
drive with one hand,
while you scrape frost
with the other hand,
but It’ll get’cha there
kind of car...
yeah it was mine,
my first car
oh, that power.
Some cars
do their duty
until the very end,
that’s a 1964 VW Beetle.
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