Spittin’ on Cars

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In the late 1980s I was kicking around
All the rocks on the sidewalk of a belt buckle town
On my freckled face rested what was left of dessert
In my pockets were nested two big fistfuls of dirt

Every Saturday morning life was made of cartoons
As each day began yawning it was us and the moon
Me and Benjamin’s daughter had the world on a string
Man her laugh was like water, made the mockingbirds sing

And we walked through the streets like an old pair of shoes
Full of comfort and scuff marks, no sign of the blues
We home cooked our mischief and handmade our fun
Every moment was magic, two crooks on the run

To this day my best memory of all those nights under the stars
Lord forgive me, was spittin’ on cars

I took Benjamin’s daughter to the crest of the hill
With a backpack of roses and a promise to fill
Her wild imagination way up over the top
With the colors of August and she promised to swap

Her sweet voice like a bluebird for a few knock knock jokes
From my socks to my sunburn man I felt every note
We both crouched on the concrete of the new overpass
Laughing down at the drivers as we aimed for the glass

And we walked through the streets like an old pair of shoes
Full of comfort and scuff marks, no sign of the blues
We home cooked our mischief and handmade our fun
Every moment was magic, two crooks on the run

To this day my best memory of all those nights under the stars
Lord forgive me, was spittin’ on cars

On a bright Tuesday morning in the month of July
Holy hell without warning broke the blueberry sky
Some rich bastard in Boston bought up Benjamin’s house
Sweet and bitter the raindrops swift and blunt on my brow

True to form did his daughter sail the sidewalk to shore
Through a blanket of water and she knocked on my door
Held my hand like an anchor and said the flood must be ours
She said, “God got jealous of us, dear, so he’s spitting on cars”


 - October 2013 -