No where near the speed limit

a small pickup

stacked high

needs a wash like

beer needs a slice of lime.

I got my windows down

dusty wind

mostly tasting like redneck

kinda day.

Hicksville, California.

Woodchuck, LA.

Put on a flannel shirt,

maybe the sleeves cut off

outta my way, Stan.

Me and the trucks

me and the tool box

cracked a beer

rolling on Highway 110.

Some fool has “Rehab” cranked up

so loud I can hear Amy breathing.

No       No       No.

Sometimes I go to the beach

sometimes I

find a reason

for all this unpleasant

company

like it has something

smart to say.

A hip, a hop

a full brakes stop.

Change lanes

maybe with a signal

maybe with a wave;

teenage dreams

learn to drive like that.

Some guy lurks a

hopped up Honda

looking for a reason to throttle up.

He doesn’t know

eight hundred thousand

of us on the freeway

ignore him

every day.

Sing along with Amy Winehouse & me

I won’t  Go   Go   Go.