So, stranded on Framingham Turnpike,
I walked from the corpse of my Vette
(Unsure just what gasoline burns like),
as far as my high heels could get.
The tow trucker guy got my blood up,
his big chest all covered in hair.
He wordlessly lifted the hood up,
and studied the engine with care.
I’d let the poor pistons get wet, or
my battery somehow went flat?
He said, “Crap in the damn carburetor.”
“How often, dude, must I do that?”
Dire Stait Vogan
Aint been in self notting ham
can't pure poured pig nostrils
wont chiff hanger choths bear kuddles
shant carburetor trial alphalawn
ain't all dentist parraish becon
can't worms don’t have teeth
width naw teeth I don’t eat
6/5/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
He is a Benscar, a burly, beastly, bellowing, befitting ugly bug troll.
This was said by my older cousin who fibs, his name is mean mole.
I do not believe you, I said, because I was aware cousin Ruth.
I think for once in his life, Grandma said “He might be telling the truth”.
We all tromped down to the river to meet this troll named Benscar.
He was taking the carburetor out of grandpa’s 1972 red and white car.
What are you doing? Grandma asked, “To Leroy’s Four Four Two?”
I thought I would clean it up and give it as a gift to the two of you.
Not so mean I told Mole, who looked sheepish and sick.
He had been hoping that his relatives would be a little more thick.
Neither grandma, grandpa or I ever believed Mole after that.
Neither did Benscar, who stayed around to play with our farm cat.
You got my heart beating at scouring velocity I bet
The colors of your paint job would be Flambeau and desert sunset
You got more juice than a Holley 650 double pump carburetor
As kind and cool as the interior of a 68 continental coach door
Your mouth was built with the precision of a go no go gauge
Your voice the soothing hum of a well-bathed metal lath
With a mind that’s as on point as a floor-mounted drill press
The drafting baton that laid down your lines, curvaceous
Another thing I noticed is you shine brighter than chrome
With the simple yet complex beauty of a geodesic dome
Sticking your key in me
Goes straight to my battery
Then my starter starts spinning
Sending sparks to my ignition
Your gas goes into my carburetor
Causing an explosion in my piston well
When you press on my accelerator
That makes me move faster
When you turn me over in the morning
You always signal first
You make my eyes bright with delight
But when it rains
You wipe my tears away
You make me sing when you play with my CD
Please don't STOP
My check engine light needs turning on
My engine isn't HOT! enough
(Making it clear this is a girl car, lol)
Carbonated sizzle STOP
me ....before I start!
I feel the vrrrroom in the room
take me to your carburetor
drop me into first gear
headed... where? .....Homespun
Oil buster
dirt riding
lowwwwly... throttle neck
Chevy Pick me upper
"you moooove me"
but
Ferrari makes me starry
lamborghini makes me weak
I am grinding my gears here
there's quakes in my breaks...
been riding the straight down
to volume-ator creator
breaking up the road
walker
gassing up for the mighty miles
till this life us do part
ways to go
to the finish me line
My generator will not generate,
My regulator will not regulate,
My carburetor will not carburet,
So I guess I’ll just be……
L
A
T
E!!!!
My oscillator will not oscillate,
The percolator will not percolate,
This incinerator will not incinerate,
There’s nothing to do but meditate!
I will no longer contemplate
About that which I hesitate
To even stop and give debate
AIN’T LIFE GREAT!!!!!
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