My car sweats motor oil
and I could disappear into those roadside attractions with a callused hand
Take a detour, follow those Amish pastel dresses
& forget about old ladies named Tookie
who tell me they're cantankerous, like old ladies are supposed to be, right?
I'll forget about wallets drawn for A's, and loud smiled good jobs
and boys with too many teeth in their mouths that swear stripes and fists
they'll remember my name
next time
I'm not a sponge and nothing they say is part of me,
My stomach sheens E-X-I-T-sign red so, if it takes a dissection, please, get me out of here or get this out of me.
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