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The Asphalt Straight-a Young Boy's Thoughts
Posted: July 02 2008 08:27 PM
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Skeet Creekmore (aka flagator79)
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West Monroe, Louisianna (318) 396-7010 If the world was fair, the worm would eat the bird half the time |
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THE ASPHALT STRAIT: A YOUNG BOY'S THOUGHTS I found this poem when I was moving out of my office at the University this week. I remember writing it when I was 11 years old while not doing the assigned writing assignment in English class. Loved fast cars even way back then - 54 years ago. The Asphalt Strait The night was dark The hour was late A boy had beefed his big Chevy 8 Not a person was up in the little town He took his mill out to drive around The engine was milled and ready to go He knew that his rod was not just for show The moon was high, the hour was late He headed out to the asphalt strait He got to the strip at quarter to one To let his car wind, to let it run He pulled to the line which was marked in white The quarter looked long on that lonely night He revved his mill up 'til it was tight The engine was purring, everything was right He pushed his foot all the way to the floor And started to let his big mill roar His big cheater slicks started to scream In his minds eye this was all just a dream A vision come true and all was right He had finished his mill on that lonely night He wound her up 'til the tach was on red This was too much and he started to dread That his mill would falter and let him down But all that it did was tear up the ground He changed gears to second with a fast speed shift As this was done he felt the car drift The big Chevy eight started to flip Ended up twisted and turned at the end of the strip The night was dark, the hour was late A boy lay dead on the asphalt strait A boy and his car on the asphalt strait The next day at dawn the big mill was found With the blood of this boy spilled on the ground From that day to this, the strip has been closed For something strange happened, but no one knows Why the boy and his car got out of control And started the big Chevy 8 into a roll No one can tell, no one knows But now the strip is forever taboo The boy loved his car and knew it well If something was wrong, then he could tell But nothing was wrong when he took his last breath And stayed with his mill undaunted by death Some people say, when the moon is bright And the sky is still on a lonely night You can see the boy when the hour is late The boy and his car on the asphalt strait The night is dark The hour is late The boy and his car on the asphalt strait Sitting alone, when the hour is late Together forever on the asphalt strait circa: 1954 Skeet Creekmore |
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