Black Buick

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 06, 2018

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Submitted: September 06, 2018

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Black Buick

My Black Buick shines

Like the full moon,

but you don’t look deeper than its shadows

as I drive down laden avenue.

My interior is smooth

like sanded wood,

the music I blast

falls into streets like a monsoon

and the shower, distracts them

from my final hour.

My big rims spin

like radio songs on repeat,

I’m tired of life’s CD,

but I listen until I arrive

letting it spin and spin.

As my Black Buick is speeding

down Burden Avenue

dancing with my  

nervous heartbeat

to an upbeat tune

I wonder if they see

I have come to my own doom.

But those who walk the streets

do not stare deep.

I’m dying slow on the inside holding the gun

as people stare with eyes jungle green.

All they see

is my Black Buick’s beauty

 


© Copyright 2018 Dervé Jean. All rights reserved.