The tank is empty and the car is dead.
Well, not quite, the battery is still alive
but the wires are cut and your jumper cables
are dangling from the rear bumper like
the intestines from a beached blue whale
in the misty morning sun of Puget Sound.
But why the hell do you care you strange
tow truck driver who calls himself “Giggle Puffs?”
Sounds like a cereal from the table of Frankenfurter.
And what’s with the shotgun pointing both barrels
into my face with blank sea shells in the holes?
I’ve got the money, you’ll get paid, I got da pearls!
And change out your air freshener in the
passenger side door, you know, the one
that says “lawyers eat rice pudding for lunch.”
It stinks like a fart from a mold spore on the
rear end of a newborn pine tree in a Jersey landfill.
But I digress, keep your eye on the road and
watch that odometer, cause I think you’re
running low on gas and speed and manners.