Saturday, March 9, 2013

Sunday Scribblings: Instinct


"Little Deuce Coupe"
is blasting from loudspeakers,
raining the sixties

all over the classic car meet
at Muscle Car City.
My first instinct

is to remain in our car
reading while my husband
walks around. He convinces

me I should go with him,
though. I see shiny Corvettes,
Cadillacs, GTOs, Model Ts,

a VW bus with peace signs,
and an El Camino my husband
loves. But I've have enough

of the past. So, here I sit
listening to Chubby Checker
twisting again like he did

last summer. I see my husband's
yellow cap stuck under a hood.
I'm typing away in the present.

8 comments:

oldegg said...

...while he is lost in the past. Next week you will have to tell us what punishment you meted out for him. I sometimes read pieces out loud to get a better feel of them. This was so brittle I almost ducked for cover!

jaerose said...

The Chubby Checker quip was funny..even though it must have been a little unexciting I like the idea of being with someone but doing the different things each person enjoys..

keiths ramblings said...

I'd have gone with him - sounds like fun!

Emma Major said...

fabulous, I love it when Ifind a quiet spot to write, especially when the rest of the family are occupied

Josie Two Shoes said...

Like you, I would have enjoyed a brief stroll thru all the bright and shiny vehicles down memory lane, then I'd be happy to go sit while my husband took his time noting all the mechanical intricacies. Having an iPhone means always having my blog and a book handy, and a few games if I get bored! :-)

Bo said...

This is great. Now I will be singing that song all night! lol

gsb said...

yes, sometimes we like to live in the past and there is nothing like a car show to take us there (Men, I mean) My wife just stays home or goes shopping..."it's a man's thing," she says...she's right...at least in our family

mindlovemisery said...

That is the sort of event I'd be interested in, in very small doses, I would probably just walked around telling myself stories

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