Jared Pickett Poet Free verse

Destination, Palm Springs

Destination,Vegas
                     perfume sales,
                                       on the road.
                             Six young adults crammed
                                       like sardines
                                   in my car,
            the size of a commode.

                A hatchback, blue 
                        Escort, 
                         Ford,
                With suicide doors.
                        Roars  
                       through 
                smoldering desert 
                         heat.
                        
                        STOP!!

             "My car will overheat"
                the radiator leaks.

                        Money, 
                     we all seek.
                        Vagas',
                   the place to be
        dollar signs on every street.
                       Walking, 
                        talking,
              dollar signs with feet.

                                     Another and I,
                                          paired,
                            A black guy..
Damien, an awesome
                   
                  smooth talking,
                  money making,
                     sales guy...
                Money falls from
                      the sky.
                            He's got that look
                                       in his eye.
                                  each sale strokes
                                        his pride.
                             Witnessing his techniques,
                                      I establish
                                          mine.

Vegas, 
our third stop.
We have seven,
It's eleven,
It's time to start picking 
the midnight crop.

        We head west toward 
                California,
                  stop in 
                      Pasendena,
                              Pamona,
                                   of impulse.

                             We hear Benjamin, 
                                     Grant, 
                                and Jackson.
                          We bank of the songs
                                  they sing.
        I grin....

      Back on 
        Route...... 
                      ......Ten
              To our destination,
Palm Springs.


....The trip continues................:JP}
Jared Pickett...7/28/09

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James Marshall Goff July 31, 2009 at 1:06 PM Hi Jared! I just passed passed Deb Guzzi's limerick game to you cuz I couldn't reach PB! and I have been admiring your talented writes lately!!! I hope you have time to continue the challenge! see my poem "the limerick express" for a weak attempt at a limerick!...lol! ...if we get the game goin' in 2-directions! EVEN MORE FUN!!!.... mail

John Freeman July 29, 2009 at 10:03 AM Looks like a great trip, Jared, I use to run up through there when I was out on the road, driving a truck,otr. Thanks for comments,Moses

July 29, 2009 at 9:40 AM I like the artistic presentation. The short lines work well in this enjoyable poem. Good use of imagery. Thank you for sharing this one with us. Have a good day! Karen

James Fraser July 29, 2009 at 3:47 AM Awesome trip Jared, another delightful read>>James

James Marshall Goff July 28, 2009 at 7:07 PM dig the shape! dig the vibe! dig the adventure! dig this poem! Jared! jimbo

Carrie Richards July 28, 2009 at 6:54 PM Love this!!! Been through this part of the country quite a lot, and I can picture the whole scene....watch out for that radiator while out in the desert!!! (Loved the line about the suicide doors! Great job! )