my stolen car poem by Nick Morse

Before, I was grinding, always in the street,

But since I pulled out my slim jim, I no longer need my feet.

 Your alarm is disarmed and no one is around

My new ride is so sweet, time for a trip down town

 Your system is hitting hard and your wax is wet and chill

Custom made for me, body to steering wheel

I turn left I turn right I never make a mistake

Your bringing me where I want to be ,always on the  take.

Your fuel fills me, your rear view kills me,

your seat belt protects me and your mechanics rebuild me

 Rack and pinion to engine,  beyond precise.

 Scratch and sniff cotton candy air freshener always so nice

You lean back your seats your interior becomes heated

 So god damn fast on the track, yet we never competed

Your engine roars silent

Your eyes are ultra violet

We fill up with coolant, now we can really start to ride it.

I can up shift through your gears, then drop down so smooth

When I put my foot on your gas baby, we can really to move.

Pumping on the brakes, we do not even dare

 At 169  miles per hour we can’t see their stares.

In order for us to stop, it will take more than a crash

 More than air bags, more than whiplash

No insurance we can just hope for the best,

 We round these corners faster we can skip this road test.

I want to open you up on the highway, feel the inertia and the trust.

I want to  burn out in the gravel, leave them all in the dust

They will have to read the license plate while it is still spinning

 T.A.H.OR BUST

By Nick Morse. 11/24/10