TWO LANE BLACK TOP

The hammer is flung down in ecstasy as pretension and litigation

Are left to hesitate at angry red stop signs;

Vain Newtonian Equations stifle the weak,

While twin quartets moan in lustful rapturous pain;

And the cerebral tide flows backward as the future surges behind it,

And sweet madness fogs reason and sharpens the eye;

And pigs and mothers scowl from glass houses in crippled sick envy;

(Anxious to stone you with Moses Rocks and Paper Bulls);

And a leer stretches over clenched teeth,

As Satan the Hood slides behind the wheel;

His hot hands running up the taught thighs of

Cadillac, Ford, Pontiac, Chevrolet

Pushing further up the skirt, heart racing sweat dripping muscles tightening

And the RESTLESS DAMNED

Stir momentarily from roadside graves,

Peer from crude white crosses, anxious;

To watch the prophet glimmer past,

To hear the long lean howl chase behind;

And Death watches.

and hopes and waits and laughs and sighs

but mostly waits.

After all, this is Marlboro Country.