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The Keys to the Car

     The Keys to the Car

 

 

Listen,

broken little century

driving around in your Karmann Ghia

like all the rock and rollers,

the queer disciples who

helped me with my homework

in 1967

I am not done with you

 

High as a gilded lily,

slinking around with your bedroom eyes

fixed on Mexico as the

best place to die

 

I have the evidence, now,

that you were possessed of

too much hope

Your clothes were too beautiful;

you were, yourself, too beautiful

Gay blades indeed: that's a

gut punch, little darling

Little age of pain

 

So what were you doing,

drinking the last hours away

in a vicious bar, wearing your

summer suit and a panama hat?

Setting sail already, hmm?

With your suitcase

buying a ticket on a passing cloud

 

Were you just

waiting to see what would happen?

 

Well, this is what happened

At least you could have left me

the keys to the car

 

 

 

 

 

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