Yellow Rambler
At 14 I took my parent’s car and drove it to El Cajon.
They were having dinner and saw a car go by,
a 1962 yellow Rambler American with a black top.
Pretty distinctive.
But I was nowhere near there.
They called the neighbors to see
if the car was in the driveway.
They were waiting for me when I pulled in.
I remember trying to evade a whipping
between the bed and a wall.
My dad could pull the belt out
like the Three Musketeers
pulling a sword out of its sheath.
French Wine
I lived in Paris from 1986 to 1987
with a roommate, my cousin and his girlfriend.
My uncle was a diplomat and a wine lover
and wine connoisseur.
He would order four cases of wine every month.
He would say “Save me three bottles of each case
and you can drink the rest.”
Viva la France.
The System
Anything anyone tells you about Vegas is bullshit.
Nobody’s up.
Anybody tell you they have a system,
just get out.
Go to the bathroom.
It’s all about hope and faith.
Hope you’ll get lucky
and faith it’ll be you.
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