Driving on – a poem

When I rode my old dented pick-up truck,
into the sleepy town
I decided I wanted to go back to my old life,
brats and a nagging wife.
This covers was blown,
so, fuck, I drive on.
The streetlights mesmerizing effect,
all nice and quiet on the road.
Maybe I’ll head to Florida,
beats New Jersey.
What’s going through her mind. Rhonda?
Our my kid, Percy?
I always thought it was a horrible name for a child,
but if you discussed that with Rhonda she went wild.
A long drive ahead of us,
time to live a quiet life without somebody making a fuzz.

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