Me and Baby
pull into a
convenience store
with a sign
hawking
fountain drinks
and Chicken
"Love me"
tenders.
I am pumping
gas when a
drop-top Camaro
pulls in and
a golden-skinned
pretty boy
with jewelry,
long hair and a beard
jumps out
and floats
to the entrance
smart phone in
his whistling
hands.
The pump kicks
off and me and
baby and
the beardo are
all back inside
our cars.
Jesus Christ
in a convertable I say.
No George Harrison.
Too gawdy,
I say,
George wouldn't
be caught dead
in a car like
that.
