Looking, driving, trying, financing cars for the past month has just about pinched me pulp like a lime slice. I’ve been without my vehicular freedom for a while now and it’s screwing with my poetry. Going in with Pat, the bike I just can’t do anymore or did for a week I’m not a big tall fat tall big did I mention tall man, I can’t sit on the seat. Red light = crotch shot. Crotch is a terrible word and it’s worse when you’re painfully aware of a green metal bar in it.
Yesterday, I cried, was so frustrated about all the people to call who couldn’t help me, I knew for sure they couldn’t help me and the MONEY, I have the mathematics skills of a hedgehog and thinking about all that money over all that time thinking about APRs, Factory to dearships, Invoice over MSRP….
I’ve lost interest in this post already – brain lulls or it’s just boring. That’s a bad sign anyway. I smell like deet. I washed my car for the first and last time tonight. said goodbye. Sorry I have to leave you in Pennsylvania. I hope you don’t become a mobile meth lab, riddled in fleas. I hope an old lady buys you and hands tropical rain palm orchid air fresheners from the mirror. I hope you’re not mad at me.
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