Notes About The Poem
This is a true story, with a couple 'stretchers.' Hope you enjoy it.....
Our Bagel Flamed Out
Here's a tale of a white Chevy Corvair, I car I'll never forget
Repossessed from a gypsy, I'd be willing to bet...
On a cold, snowy winter night, February 1968
This 'bagel' was to drive the gang and me on the interstate
From Chicago, IL to Racine, WI, a basketball game there to play
I groaned to myself: "We'll never get there. No way!"
The tires were bald; both windshields were cracked
I searched in the trunk: neither spare tire nor jack
This junker burned oil something terribly fierce, and the
brakes were suspect, which was probably worse
But we all piled in, eight of us in a car seating five
We were cramped like sardines, more dead than alive
And as soon as we started to pick up some speed
Two floorboards gave way; that's all we didn't need
Gas fumes swirled round our heads, making us light
What with the snow and the cold, the driver couldn't see right
Somehow we piled out at the gym, stumbled onto the court
When our bagel exploded to bits, with lots of smoke and a snort
The game went by in a daze and a haze, as the bagel flamed out
Taking a train home, we cursed that Corvair the whole ride throughout
July 14, 2019
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
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