Buick Poems - Poems about 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...

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I dreamt I awoke in a 1939 Buick as it sped into the 40’s, a decade depleted of running boards. I wondered how could tommy-gun wielding gangsters appear historically relevant without running boards? Running boards mark an era the way hats do. Then I thought, what the hell I’m in a 1939 Buick so every tommy gun toting punk better watch out running boards or...

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When I was Seven, Six of us piled in to a shiny New Buick. “A quick errand across town” It was hot I fell asleep. I was awoken By the screams. A dump truck had eaten us up and spit out our core A heavy blow Against my head Made everything go dark. I wake up to silence. The screaming had stopped but...

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I dreamt I awoke in a 1939 Buick - the way it seeped into the 40’s without the running boards. I wondered how could tommy gun wielding gangsters appear historically relevant without running boards. Then I thought, what the hell I’m in a 39 Buick so every tommy-gun totting thug better watch out, running boards or not. This is a very cool car, just ask Humphrey...

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and he was a legend wherever he went, polite, good looking and with a certain killer style, they all loved him, his ways, his humor but most of all because he didn't compete with them....easy going and honest to a tee. so shockwaves shot round the town and further, when he was found with his pants...

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