Blue Oldsmobile

posted by Amos on Sunday, April 8th 2007

I’m exhausted tonight. Can barley keep the lids propped open so it’s all I can do to post this poem I wrote earlier today. Set my mind on completing this poem a day thingy.

Blue Oldsmobile circa 1980

Lost outside of Omaha,
could be Des Moines,
in this Blue Oldsmobile circa 1980.

Stopped at an old diner,
neon pulled me in.
Ate a chimney of corn
couple cups of earthen soup
with chunks of
       love
baked in.
Laughed at a local joke.
At my expense.
Yours too.

A chubby waitress,
still wet with youth and dream
searched me out with a bill and
two questions;
"Where ya from?"
San Diego by way of a lie," I replied.
"Where ya going," the Chubby one asked.
"Looking for a mountain
        to call my own,"
was my reply.

Cubby Waitress opened her mouth.
Closed it again, secret got the better
of her.
"Best of luck Mister."
I nodded.

Back in a blue Oldsmobile circa 1980.
Heading east with Mark Twain's ghost.
Lost again,
looking for a mountain
      to call my own.

written for the april poem-~~a-day~~ every-once-in-a-while exercise

Post Tags: poem + Poetry // Subscribe // Bookmark