Rhyme out of town

In a beat up T-Bird

she told me to forget

to prevent my heart from exploding

or my half-ass mind

full of rhymes.

Squinting through a dirty windshield

I pictured myself doing that

then replied, would be a mess

but that’s not something

would cause me to confess.

I told her I’ve rehearsed

my deathbed scene

the ride in a hearse in snow

counting each flake.

She told me to forgive

time for removing loved ones

embrace moments given

lay the whiskey aside

just drive.

In a rusty beat up Thunderbird

we made it to Nashville

where dreams float like bubbles

and burst

leaving a thirst

to rhyme out of town.

1959 Ford Thunderbird

burn baby burn

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