Little Red Chevy
it starts...
with the turn of a key
the push of a pedal,
quickly count to three
until you hear the rattle, the rev
you just haven't lived
unspoken potential comin' outta
an old Chevy, colored red
its the kind of love
no woman can give her man
(it has internal workings
he actually understands)
so out the driveway
and away you go
this is a trip for you
not the adoring fans or the show
the test, the need
the addiction you must feed
hit that open stretch
and mainline that speed
straight to your vein,
the surge to your brain
pump those pistons in the block
just like your heart after a shock
pedal to the metal
and let the tranny spin
with a drop of the clutch
a pull on the stick
push those RPM's til your rods bend
squeal your tires,
burn the rubber
drop into that gear
and make your body shudder
pull a ribbon of highway up from the ground
like the string you ripped from suzie's hair
strip that road down the way you layed her bare
steer it, turn it, and feel
the rhythm of your engine
-the burn and the peel-
remind yourself that
a 124 mph drag
is a rush you can't steal
and no repeptition of acting feet
can replace a spinning wheel
cuz' this ain't no car
its your art, and your friend
its the one thing in your life
you'll shed a tear for at its bitter end
it's your blood, your sweat
your poetry in motion she just won't get
it's more than the zeal, more than the appeal,
its a straight-six-supercharged-chrome plated
headers-with straight pipe flowmasters-and a
cold air intake-ridin' on 20'-kinda feel
my zen, my patience,
that thing I call 'Cadence'
it's my little red Chevy,
as it will always be until
...it ends
By spyboygreen
© 2008 spyboygreen
(All rights reserved)
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