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My Worn Out JalopyIt's rusted out From front to back, It's falling apart I've got a bruised crack. I can put my foot Right through the floor, I need a trade Need I say more? The paint's peeling off The rust shows through, Tires as bald as an old man's head Doors are falling off too. I've got a cracked windshield My gas gauge is broke, I fill up the tank Then it chokes. My radio doesn't work My motor looks unfit, The trunk lid pops up Against the rear window it hits. I get laughed at All the damn time, If I was to get it fixed It would cost me a pretty dime. It spits and sputters On the way down the street, Time to get a new one It will be a fantastic treat. Copyright Cynthia Jones Feb.7/2005 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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