Nostalgia ought to be the name of my home town, because I spend so much time there. |
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Bitchin' 'Bout the PastYou used to be able to look at a Packardor a Cadillac or even one of Henry’s damn Fords and know exactly what model it was from three blocks away on a rainy evening without even squinting But elegance and grace and two-toned summer shoes are out Gone And all the Cary Grants today have to pass in hundred dollar jeans And they say we’re making progress Cars all shaped like bars of soap, sixty thousand dollar bars, slippery in the wind I guess, boring Good to drive, but my god, where is Fred Astaire and a long sweep of fender Ginger and something worth a second look The world’s a poorer place without the ‘40 Continental, road houses, big bands and crickets on a summer night Thin wheels in Bogart hands, long hoods, suicide doors, tops down and passions up |
 This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection CORNER OF MY MIND available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |
