What about my Cadillac?
"It's there, you fool,
now tell them about the cattle raid,
and how I got me bull back."
But What about those images,
that place, that girl,
and repoing the caddy
from the hustlers and hiding in the hills.
and the old woman who collected poetry magazines.
and the garage where we put that beat-up
Caddy till it was dark,
and then the damn thing wouldn't start.
"Your not listening are you,
that's why I'm giving it to her"
But it was she,
and I haven't seen her
in a long long while,
and how she beat the shit
out of the Caddy while it was running
before we had to give it back,
and Dad on the Damn tractor
sitting in the brown dust of Brownton,
rolling one and giving me advice.
And all the boys half stoned, just smiling
at me and that city girl that I had dragged along,
besides I don't see the difference.
"you will, I'll drag the words out of you,
and dump them on her"
She won't listen anymore than me,
I had a plan you know,
Take the caddy over Bear Mountain,
and up the Mt. Clare road,
wound up on the tractor
in the dark,
and her running down the road
in another direction,
with the boys
just looking to get stoned
and the caddy just sitting there,
bout beat to death,
and then I awoke,
fevered,
"you fouled it up you know"
yeh, right, you got your goddamn cattle back,
and my caddy's rusting
in the Brownton sun.
Author notes
Written August 3rd, 2003
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someone sent me here for a new take on Táin Bó Cúalnge.
But damned if the perp didn't have the nerve to write it in Gaelic. Inspite of that I really enjoyed this early Lute. That boy shows a lot of promise and as long as he doesn't fragment his thoughts processes any further I think I can keep following him right over those red mountains and on to dung splattered hill of Tara.
Cool ey
d
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damn the man's got THE car
it's got the quiant country drawl of storytelling voice combined into random images of dragging the words out, not too sure what happened as it was totally scattered in an excellent way, and definately a different kinda image apposed to a top down seat back rolling in the cadellac without a care... it won't start!!! daaaaamn...
the caddy ended up rusting in the sun, brownton dirt and rust, lovely! sitting in hot sun on the damn tractor rolling a joint with your dad and the boys over advice heheh
and repoing the caddy??? waht's that... if it's slang... it's too distant for me to get it, sometimes that can be a trap to fall into if not everyone gets it but up to you
keep writing, glad you got a highlighted poem, it's fun... cheers
take care
phil -
Sorry to hear your plan did not work out. This was an interesting read. It was unusual. Nicely done!... Wonder where that Caddy is now? Irene
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and all the boys half stoned,....
Very good line, and there are a few of them here. I like it.
6TH line you have the the
Cool, Jules. -
This is so unique... I love the flow; it seems to just sneak up on you... hmmm, just have a distinct feeling I'll be reading this in a book someday.
Btw, I just posted the companion piece to the Martyr poem, if you still wanted a look at it.. -
Who was it.. who said.. Golf is just a good walk spoiled
hmmm can't remember.. but I liked this piece.. seems like you needed some time out.. lolololol.. such a shame.. 
oohh well better luck next time, men, cars, relationships.. seems a walk would be better..
~GILL~xx
Edited on Aug 03, 4:42 because ''.
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