PrettyFakes

My Camaro is sputtering again &
me & dad had to yank the carb, so
I am kicking the back of yr seat
while you get lost downtown
looking for Frankie’s, looking
for Vestavia girls. We are trying
to like Mudhoney this week
because they seem artier
somehow and even if it’s
still Seattle at least it’s
not in the Hit Parader poster books.

There’s a carful of dumbasses &
I kick yr seat some more & you
cuss me for the fifteenth time. At a
stoplight I yank the headrest out and
jam it in backwards. You cuss
me some more.
Mudhoney sucks.

Before you even put it in, Tad
does too. We drink flat
Mountain Dew & munch
Cool Ranch Doritos. None of us
die on 9/11, most of us will
get divorced, there’s a little
rehab in the future, a little
regret, no visible
scars, but
it turns out that jammed in
backwards headrests really
lower the resale value
of 1986 Honda Accords.

Mea culpa, mea culpa.