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

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: