Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

i want my camaro back

i want my camaro back

t-tops, for fuck’s sake, t-tops

all my mixtapes
and getting fingered behind the flats
at play practice

such a fine budding actress

every prom dress i ever had
with the shoes dyed to match

i want a man
reminiscent of mickey rourke on film
in 1987

i want the first shot of bourbon that felt right
and the first joint that took hold

i want the first time i saw the movie halloween

i want to say bloody mary five times
in a darkened bathroom mirror

i want to fear god and voodoo
with equal vim once again

it kept you busy with grand delusions
false hope
brimstone and jell-o molds

the future ain’t what it used to be, my friend

6 replies on “i want my camaro back”

If God is the bearded lesbian I suspect Her to be, I hope She reads this and finally finds some comfort in the face of her universe-reaching gender dissociation.

Seriously dude, you are legend.

I used to have a Camaro. Blaze orange. With the paint peeling off the front fender to reveal the black plastic underneath. And a box of paraphernalia (including my favorite bong) in the trunk that a cop found when I took my girlfriend down by the river to talk a little too early in the morning.
Memories indeed.
Thanks for that.

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