Crashing my car into the back of a taxi
I’m having a very New York moment.
Another bastard cab crashes into me from behind.
The hood of my car crumbled, bent in the air
before my eyes, all the molecules of metal
gone soft waving hood ocean
my radiator stuck in the trunk.
It’s April 1st
Spring a horny bastard ready to attack
so bring on the cops
I’m not drunk yet
or young anymore
and when the young cop asks me,
“What kind of retard are you?”
I know he’s on my side
like the cabbies who drive away
on 13th Street and 2nd Avenue
and the grey old janitor
who comes out of a basement
to give me a rope from nowhere
to tie the hood down
and it helps
but lost, driving over the
Manhattan bridge
the hood jumps up
covers my windshield
but I use my mirrors
left and right
to get that fucker back to Queens
but I end up in Coney Island
because that gorgeous slut
all big tits and boardwalk ass and the Cyclone
that gorgeous slut is always calling me
calling me, calling me, calling me
texting me: “I want your tongue inside me.”
She never leaves me alone.
*John Rocco at MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/292819823
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