"jetta" poems
Her backbone is a long stretch of American western highway
I trace my fingers eastbound/westbound across the slats of her ribs
pressed against the skin ready to pop
She left southside Midlothian Virginia as soon as she was old enough to make her own bad decisions
sick of being looked at
eyes grading like the big fat red D's stamped on her math homework
She left by foot
bus
plain
train
that grey jetta with the scratch down the passenger side from where she parked too close to that ugly Subaru
she left me
but she needed to breathe some air that wasn't stale with mediocre pretension and the frat house odor of stale beer and sawdust
so run wild
fly free
may your lips utter cliches without fear of derision
go make your life an incredible story
beautiful
ugly
hard to look at
can't look away
make your life a story
and I'll record it
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
NFL season and 49ers games.
Twins.
Dark clothes.
The cranberries music that you so shamely confessed you liked.
Rock festivals and when 80s pop is played in night clubs cause it's the only way you will stand up and dance with me.
Buffalo wings on our first date.
Zombie movies although we've never seen a movie together.
The rooftop outside my apartment that you hated cause it didn't let us watch the sunrise.
That limited edition beer we tried together and both disliked.
Random attacks of laughter, silence and my bed.
Big streets and long rides in my car and that it only takes 10 minutes to get to your house.
Watching buildings and streets get constructed because I've never seen Engineering the same way since you explained it to me and the passion you put in your career.
The sofa at one of our friend's house.
Yellow pick ups and blue Jetta's.
The space between my fingers.
Small eyes and your dad's smile.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
There are too many things I regret telling you, darling. I regret telling you about how when I was little I nearly died in the accident that totaled my parents' Jetta. I regret mentioning that I felt like your Halloween costume was more important to you than I was. I regret that you let me convince you to help you clean your ******* room so I could feel important. I regret every tear I've made you shed and your pain is carved into my brittle bones so I know just how much I've hurt you. Honestly, I've started to realize how much of a miracle it is that you haven't changed your mind about loving a broken and battered shell of a human being wearing a smiling mask that comes off so slowly it peels away what's left of my pale, flaking skin. I'm surprised you're still interested in my thinning body and tattered soul. My name falling from your lips in ecstasy still sounds so foreign, like hearing a language you never even knew existed. You look at me like I hang the moon in your night sky, making me feel unworthy of the way you treat me, not like a broken toy but rather an ancient heirloom to be treasured and mended. I find myself tossing and turning at night wondering and worrying and whittling away at the fragile self confidence I build when I'm with you and I ******* regret. I regret not opening up and I regret the indisputable fact you could do so much better than me. There are still so many things I regret and letting you read this is one of them but these are all things you need to know and my heart is still in pieces beneath our feet. Yes, there will always be things I regret, but loving you will never be one of them.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
She said she wanted an adventure
trekking through the Mexican desert with six shooters
the Lone Ranger and her Kemo Sabe
she wanted to pack her bags
hit the road without a second glance to spare
take the Greyhound bus
or maybe her dad's Jetta
and open it up across endless highways
until the tires are stripped bare
and the exhaust smokes
she wanted to be a stranger
in a strange town
with a cardboard sign reading
Anywhere but here
mostly she just wanted to escape
the chill of all the old ghosts which haunted her
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Igniting my anger
Scarring my skin
Pulling my hair
Making a noose
With the
Strands
You drive me up a
Brick wall
Straight into
Insanity
Boiling blood
Red in the face
Screaming
Spitting
Rage
How can you
Justify our
"Friendship"
How can you
Say it's all been
"Forgotten"
My temperature
Rises
I glare at your
Ragged clothing
You live out of your
Piece-of-shit Jetta
Homeless and
Hopeless
Oh, how I despise you
Ex-lover
Ex-friend
Ex-human being
I shrill out in disgust
*Just admit it
I mean nothing
To you
These days*
That's not true
You retort
Getting off your
Makeshift stool
From fourth grade
Outside your old
Home
Your finger slams into me
Poking my soul
**Just get the ****
Away from me
Already**
Speechless
Full of emotion
Acting without
Thinking
I slapped your
Face
And we tussled
'Til dawn
'Til the problems
Were solved
But
I still despise you
Ex-lover
Of mine
And you still
**** me with
Every line
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 12:45 PM UTC
and it’s cold outside
on the dock
the dog is chasing mosquitoes
and I am drinking cheap wine
I wonder if my mother knew I’d be
as ugly as the world
black and blue and green
but mostly black
and I think back to high school
when I aced calculus
and made out with Ashley in the back of her Jetta
but I’ve always hated math
and Ashley died drunk driving her Jetta, I think
the dog and I head back up to the cabin
for another bottle of wine
as I walk up the steps
I can hear Hank Williams on the Silvertone
“my bucket’s got a hole in in it
my bucket’s got a hole in it”
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
My hand locks into yours
the same way I taste under my tongue,
parted and warm,
humming while your lips press
with quiet insistence against your heart.
I crawl inside its steady beat,
(just the summer,
sloping hills and white stucco)
lying between the hours,
your forearms tense with habit.
The white Jetta's
an uneven cavalcade of
windows rolled down, my thighs
melt bare, and
the sun burns slow and thorough
through dusk.
The tide pulls away
the thick New England sky.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 8:29 PM UTC
Cars, what are you going to do?
One day they're fine, the next you see they are poo.
Bad wiring on a headlight, not too bad.
But a front and rear main seal leak, worries me a tad.
Where am I going to find the money,
Will I be able to fix my honey?
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
dying
is not scary
living every day not knowing how tomorow will be
is much more scary
I hate the unknown
and how much it stings
If i cried
you would be here.
i wish i could have it back
Apr 21, 2011
Apr 21, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
Nun songo nu grand'ommo
nun songo nu scienziato.
'A scola nun sò gghiuto
nisciuno m'ha mannato.
S' i' songo intelliggente?
e m' 'o spiate a mme?
I' songo nato a Napule,
che ne pozzo sapè?!
Appartengo alla *****
a chella folla 'e ggente
ca nun capisce proprio 'o riesto 'e niente.
Però ve pozzo dicere na cosa:
campanno notte e ghiuomo a stu paese
pur i' me sò 'mparato quacche cosa,
quaccosa ca se chiamma umanità.
Senza sapè nè leggere e nè scrivere,
da onesto cittadino anarfabbeta,
ve pozzo parlà 'ncopp' a n' argomento
ca certamente ve pò interessà: chi è ll'ommo.
Ll'ommo è nu pupazzo 'e carne
cu sango e cu cervello
ca primma 'e venì al mondo
(cioè 'ncopp' a sta terra)
madre natura, ca è sempre priviggente,
l'ha miso 'nfunno 'a ll'anema,
cusuto dint'o core, na vurzella
cu dinto tante e tante pupazzielle
che saccio: 'o mariuncello,
na strega 'e Beneviento,
nu scienziatiello atomico
cu a faccia indisponente,
nu bello Capo 'e Stato
vestuto 'a Pulcinella;
curtielle, accette, strummolo
e quacche sciabbulella.
Penzanno ca 'o pupazzo
nu juomo se fa ommo,
si se vò divertì,
chesto 'o ppò fà. E comme?
Sceglienno 'a dint' 'o mazzo
ca tene dint' 'a vurzella,
chello ca cchiù lle piace
fra tutte 'e pazzielle.
Si po' sentite 'e dicere:
"'O tale hanno arrestato!
Era uno senza scrupolo:
pazziava al peculato.
E trene nun camminano?
'A posta s'he fermata?".
Chi tene 'mmano 'o strummolo,
pazzianno s'he spassato.
'O scienziatiello atomico
ch' 'a bomba 'a tena stretta
"Madonna! - tremma 'o popolo-
E si mo chisto 'a jetta?".
Guardate che disgrazia
si 'a sciabbulella afferra
nu capo ca è lunatico:
te fa scuppià na guerra.
Senza penzà ca 'o popolo:
mamme, mugliere e figlie,
chiagneno a tante 'e lacreme.
Distrutte sò 'e famiglie!
A sti pupazze 'e carne affocaggente
l'avessame educà cu 'o manganiello,
oppure, la natura priviggente,
avess' 'a fa turnà nu Masaniello.
Ma 'e ccose no... nun cagnano
e v' 'o dich'i' 'o pecché:
nuie simme tanta pecure...
facimmo sempe "mbee".
729
The man of Tao
Seems dull
And confused
He is not driven on
By some shouting voice
Aimless and wandering
The customer service representative
Was a bit obnoxious
"What you can do
Is have a seat over there
For me please"
Okay?
I sat after a few moments
He just could have said,
"You are welcome
to have a seat, if you would like"
It's fine
What a terrible job
Working at a rental car place
A hierarchy of sales representatives
Trying to climb some ladder
I got the car
So I have it to go to work tomorrow
Drive carefully
Extra carefully
I remind myself
The car is a big boat
A big unwieldy Camry boat
Blah
Wish they would have had a Jetta there
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
With Highway One almost completely to myself
North of San Simeon
I find a pristine ocean on my left
Green covered hillsides on my right,
And a warm sun in a light blue sky above.
The stresses of the city and my topsy-turvy life
Begin to fall away as I relax and revel in it,
All alone here in my faithful Jetta.
Jul 20, 2024
Jul 20, 2024 at 6:39 PM UTC
Word challenge using the words Rattletrap
fleabag, tatterdemalion, jalopy, squalid,
dilapidated, down at the heel. Vintage words
It was kind of dilapidated
But it still ran fine
It wasn’t a total rattletrap
No matter what people said.
I would like to have a new car
But I’m down at the heels right now
having lost my job last month.
I live in an aged fleabag flat
In a squalid neighborhood
Until I get back on my feet.
Everyone calls me a tatterdemalion
But I pay my own way.
And when my old jalopy died
A piece of me died too.
I loved that little ‘0-two Jetta;
I’d get in and it would go
The best art of it all was this-
It always brought me home again.
I couldn’t face the breaker’s yard
And see her all torn down for parts.
I donated her to charity
To help pay for someone’s brand new heart.
ljm
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 8:01 AM UTC