At the drive-in,
Schemer and Dreamer
are a stuck zipper away
from more than foreplay.
He's panting and printing
yellow grease on her bra.
There's popcorn in his teeth;
he's belching beer through a straw.
And her favorite romance novel
is a wishbone in her craw,
buried deep
as the gearshift in her back.
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Monday, July 21, 2014
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
15 comments:
Ah... to give up the dream so easily... This makes me sad, despite the tongue-in-cheek (no pun intended) humour of the situation.
I am rolling on the floor laughing out loud! And I could write a book titled "Tales of the Drive-in" ...
AW. Sadder than satire.
Ah, drive-in memories -- good, bad and indifferent ones and no one tells them better, MZ!!
Were you in the car with us, forty years ago, the night of the Homecoming dance?
This was quite a treat--disgusting and a bit funny and sad, all rolled into one.
we dont have many a drive ins in delhi.. never been to one myself!! interesting poem!
Yeah well, never settle, I say. And I'd have another spot for that gear shift.
Loving Hedgewitch's comment.
You're such a romantic, MZ. Not.
Pure poetic genius. Love it - and yet, so sad.
Yep, the problem with dreamers....
Rules of attraction, I guess. At the other end of his wishbone is a Penthouse Letter. Both have to be broken to get to the other. Rites of passage, the hickey with the beerfoam edge. A refreshing aside and cautionary tale.
You needed to attract a guy with a better car! :-)
never neck with a guy who drinks beer through a straw. life lessons!
not so good for her... ~
Wow. This is powerful.
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