Short Hatchback Poems

I have to let it go.
It's not a workingman's truck, too pretty
but it is still a sweet ride.

Pain at the pump,
not getting any richer just older.
I got to bite the bullet,
squeeze into a squeezer.
I see a small hatchback in my future.

My wife puts on that face,
you know the one
"gloom and doom." She mouths silently,
and of course, I can see
she don't mean it....

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(This is a fictional poem)

Life is so hard because I'm short and ugly too.
I have big pimples and I smell worse than the animals at the zoo.
I drive a hatchback that has no torque.
Cool people always beat me up because I'm a dork.
When people learn that I'm president of the chess club, they give me the bird.
They make me miserable because I give new meaning to the word nerd....

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He would lay me flat on the forest floor
among the leaves and the moss
In a pasture or a farmer's field
In the hatchback of his car
parked behind an abandoned cabin
along the river road
Outside his room in the hall
Upstairs upon the bitingly brumal 
bare tiles of the bathroom floor 
was where I lost my virginity
Any of those places he would take me
Never in his bed
Anywhere but there
It was too intimate he said...

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