Neat Cool Fast Junk
Nothing would stop her charm, sex and cool,
Especially on a hot summer’s day.
Acting all chilled I’d rev her maxed motor,
‘Til she screamed down that inviting freeway.
Celebrating life with a thrust and a swerve,
Obeying only some laws of the road.
Oblivious of others, she’d own the whole lane,
Leaving other cars looking like they slowed.
Fleeting and flashing, she’d shine on a dime,
And make all of the people’s heads turn.
She was my perfect hot car, my woman on the road,
Tailgating death without any concern.
Joyrides where common for my old flame of the road,
Until that fateful, wet slippery day.
Nothing could stop her slide to the tree,
Killing her motor, the wreckers now her graveyard decay.
For Rusted and Busted acrostic poet contest
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