| Here I come... | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Here are some poems for your reading pleasure! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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br> I remember the first day I saw Mitch. It was my first day out of the junkyard and I had just been in an accident. It was kind of embarrassing for him to see me like that. I looked terrible-my hood was smashed inward and so was my bumper. I knew Mitch was going to fix me up and I knew even though I looked bad, that he saw the potential I had. I remember my last owner that smashed me into two cars. He was the worst driver in the world. I was usually scared when he was driving, especially after he had been drinking. He would park me outside in the cold. He would never take me to the doctor for oil changes or new brake pads. I�m glad that�s over with and now I can move on. Mitch fixed me up really nice. He gave me a new hood and a new bumper. The one thing that still isn�t fixed, though, is my quarter panel on the driver�s side. It was as crooked as a politician. I used to have pop all over my interior, but Mitch cleaned all that up. He gave me an oil change, new brake pads, and most of all, he gave me a bath. I remember my first bath. It was a cold winter day and the snow had just melted off all the streets. Mitch never liked to give me a bath unless he knew I was going to stay clean for a long time. I remember the day very vividly: the warm, misty spray against my white paint, the suds slowly running down the sides to the drain on the concrete floor. I felt beautiful again, almost as beautiful as the day I drove out of the Ford factory. I felt like flower blooming for the first time on a warm spring day. After he finished rinsing me off, he gave me a coat of wax. The drive home, however, wasn�t so enjoyable because it was about 20 degrees out and that was without wind chill. Every night I got a nice spot in the garage to sleep. It was so nice in there at night-so peaceful, so quiet, no cars honking at me, no stop signs and no traffic lights. I hated it on the cold winter mornings when Mitch would wake me up by turning my ignition. It�s very startling when all of a sudden your pistons are moving after a long, deep sleep. I never really started well in the mornings but once my big 5-liter V-8 engine got going, watch out! Some of the best times of my life were in the summer. Being a convertible, I loved putting my top down and cruising for chicks while listening to Tom Petty. My favorite song of his is entitled �Last Dance With Mary Jane�. I don�t know why I like the song. All that I know is I run much better when the song is playing in my tape deck. One summer day Mitch and I were cruising with the top down, when we saw a girl standing on the side of the road by a Mazda 626 with a flat tire. Mitch and I quickly jumped at the opportunity to meet this girl and her car. The gray 626 was looking pretty good besides the fact of her having a flat tire. Mitch got out of his car to help the girl. �Hi,� she said shyly �Hi, do you need some help?� he asked. �Yes, desperately,� she replied. �OK, it�ll take me a few minutes though.� Mitch changed the tire as quick as he could because it wasn�t his favorite thing to do. Knowing Mitch, he probably wouldn�t have stopped if it had been some 40 year-old woman. �So what�s your name?� Mitch asked. �Sarah, and yours?� �Mitch.� �Would you like to get together sometime?� Mitch asked sheepishly. �Sure, here�s my phone number.� �Great, I�ll give you a call sometime,� Mitch concluded. I was so excited because this meant I could see the Mazda again. She was a fox, with her gray paint, silver rims and sunroof. Being a bit shy, I didn�t honk at her to let her know I was interested, but I could tell she digged muscle cars like me. Our first date was out at the state lakes. We met Sarah and her Mazda at Lake 20. As Mitch pulled me into the parking lot, I revved up my engine and honked my horn to let them know that we were there. The Mazda now knew I was interested. Mitch was puzzled though. He couldn�t figure why his car was revving up without him touching the gas and honking without him touching the horn. Mitch and Sarah swam for a long time, which was fine with me. We stayed until sundown and oh what a romantic evening it was, parked there with the Mazda by the beach watching the sun set. She looked so beautiful as the sun glimmered off her shiny gray paint like a star twinkling from above. I didn�t want the night to end, and I was hoping that somehow our engines wouldn�t start and that we could just park there forever. As Mitch and I drove away, I gave one last honk good bye and for the first time I felt sorrow as the windshield wiper fluid ran down my windshield. | |||||||||||||||||||||||
| Here are some poems for your reading pleasure! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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. My Ford Mustang The old girl keeps a goin' with a quirk or two, a rattle in the door a rattle under the hood, a shimmy and shake too. She may need some work, a tune-up would be nice. Some bondo here and bondo there would help a little too. The old girl could use some paint, a windshield, she could use an oil change and 4 new tires would make her feel brand new. But even with her many oddities she's been a good old car, and never ceases to amaze me. Clowns Striking stares, and big red noses, his face so pale, his eyes tormented. Laughter so shrill, his pitch too high, all at once, making me cry. Stop your laughter. Take off your mask. Your painted grin your painted eyes... those corrupt eyes. I can see it there, the sadness within. Your eyes tell all -- they confess. You've haunted me, and disturbed me: my childhood you wouldn't let go. The Craven I wake up in the middle of the night, I crave a peanut butter sandwich, Only this and nothing more. I wake up in the morning, I crave a pop-tart, Only this and nothing more. Quote the Craven, Nevermore. The Alcoholic He staggers in the room with his bloodshot eyes, Quiet he is not because of his laughs and his cries. One drink is never enough for him, he has to have more, He wished he had his time back when he is passed out on the floor. You will never see a person drink a drink so quick, he has made himself sick. ROLLER BLADES Roller blades, Roller blades, what a pain you are with no conscience or remorse you watch me as I fall. With your 4 in-line wheels you roll on down the street looking for that killer rock to cause a torturous fall. As we coast on down the street you lead me to that spot, and I know you have a smile as you hit that little stone. Roller blades, Roller blades what a pain you are now I have some road rash and a splint upon my arm. | |||||||||||||||||||||||
| Here is a short story about a bizarre day I experienced at an amusement park! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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My interests: |
�Fantastic Scuba Diver� The three-hour drive to Wolly World was never-ending, but being with a big group of people helped some. Knowing what lay ahead, who wouldn�t be excited. The parking lot was as full as the ocean. Finding a parking spot was a task of decisiveness, of overcoming the frustration. We rushed out of the van like molten rock spewing from a volcano. We all fled to the ticket stand to buy our tickets with big expressions of joy on our faces, even though it was a hot blistering day outside. I could smell the asphalt as it started to melt. I could feel the warm drips of sweat slowly running down my head like a bead of water slowly suspending itself over the windshield of a car. My girlfriend Sarah and I decided we wanted to go do our own thing so we left the group and went to stand in line at the �Hollywood Express�. It was my girl friends first time on a roller coaster so she wasn�t too thrilled about it. �I�m scared,� she said with her timid voice. �It�ll be fine, I�ll be right beside you,� I replied. �I don�t want to go on this thing anymore,� she said as I grabbed her arm. �Come on, you�ll be fine, I promise you�ll like it.� She was my very best friend. She had short brown hair with strands of blonde; sparkling blue-gray eyes that I could never say no to, a smile that said it all and a body that could make guys� heads turn. Her personality, though, made all that seem unimportant. She's always willing to lend a helping hand and when I�m not feeling well, she�s there to take care of me. She always is thinking of others instead of herself. When all seems bad, I know I can turn to her. All that I wanted was for her to be happy. Before we knew it, we were at the front of the line, a 45-minute wait to go on a 5-minute ride, what a deal. Sarah and I sat down in the big black seats and pulled the bar over our head to hold us in. �Mitch, I�m so scared,� she said as she grasped my hand with a death grip. �You�ll be fine, trust me.� Famous last words. The ride came to a screeching halt, and I slowly reached over, lifted one of her eyelids that she had so tightly shut and said �It�s over, you�re okay.� �No I�m not, I think I wet my pants,� she said wildly. �No you didn�t. Come on. We�ll go on one of the kiddy rides.� �Shut up, just because I don�t like near death experiences doesn�t mean I�m a wimp.� �I�m sorry, I thought you would like it.� �Well, I didn�t.� �Come on, I�ll find a nice calm ride we can go on,� I concluded. �Okay,� she said with her little pouty face. We came to a ride called the �Love Boat�. �How�s this,� I asked? �Much better and much more romantic,� she said with her sweet voice. Seeing her luscious lips, I leaned over for a kiss but came up empty handed because of her infuriating feelings about the roller coaster. With her back turned to me I became bored and started looking around. The first thing that caught my eye was the money pond at the side of the line. The 2-foot deep pond was the only thing of interest to look at: the blue bottom, the flowers and shrubs that made up it�s surroundings. As I stood there staring at the money at the bottom reflecting the beams of light into my eyes, I began to daydream. What would it be like to go swimming in the pool and pick up all the money that lies on the bottom. I�m sure everyone has thought of this but are too afraid to admit it. My dream was interrupted by something very out of the ordinary, a man wearing a bright yellow wet suit, fins of neon green, two oxygen tanks and a breathing apparatus. He abruptly jumped into the money pool at the side of the line. Everyone�s head turned to look at the idiot who had just plunged into the pool. It was kind of interesting to watch the man as he skimmed the bottom of the pool, picking up the quarters and dimes like a scavenger waiting for his prey to die. �Hey, Sarah, look at this fool,� I said as I tapped on her shoulder. �Oh my gosh, how long has he been in there?� She asked with a concerned voice �Not very long, and like it would matter, he�s wearing scuba gear,� I replied. The person running the ride we were waiting at didn�t hesitate to call security. A few minutes had passed before I could see the security guards running down the center path of the amusement park. That was comedy in itself. Sarah turned her head only to see the security guards� fat rolls of skin bouncing up and down as they came running down the path. Their nametags read Fred and Otis. I could have sworn they were twins: both were overweight, had teeth that were slowly decaying; had glasses that magnified their eyes at least a hundred times. Otis had a jelly-like substance stuck in his mustache that appeared to be from a jelly doughnut. They pushed their way through the crowd to the person that had called security. �What seems to be the problem?� he asked with a confused voice �What the hell do you think? Take a look over in the money pool,� the woman said sarcastically. The two guards ran over to the scene of the crime and jumped in the pool and pulled the man out of the water. The man couldn�t have been playing with a full deck. I mean who decides to dress up in scuba gear and go jump in a money pool at an amusement park. The guards pulled off his foggy goggles and made him drop the money. �What�s your name?� Otis asked �I am the fantastic scuba-diver!� the man announced to everyone �Now listen hear son. Don�t you try to pull that crap on me. Now what�s your name?� �Fantastic scuba diver,� the man replied. �Okay, Fred cuff this guy and take him to jail,� he said with an authoritarian voice. �Uh, okay Otis,� Fred said stupidly. My girlfriend took a picture of the man in the big green suit and every time I look at it, it takes me back to that bizarre day.
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