Reality Misbehavin’
by Odin Roark

Our story?

Me?

Her?

I got dreams.
She’s got me.
Together through hard times.
You?

That’s okay. You just drive.

We’ve hitched many a ride, Mr. Whoever,
but this one…
We thumbed down a caddy, Sweetness.
That preggy-pillow under your dress gets the prize.
Hot damn!

Dreams were getting thin, you know, guy?
Suitcase and bedroll’s all but worned out,
but sittin’ here on this all-white leather,
with another whacko-kind of wanna be,
grippin the wheel senseless,
zombie-starin’ ahead,
eyes red and high,
mouth wide and tremblin’,
sheeeet…don’t get no better.

So, driver…

We’re headin for way out there, okay?
where water always tastes like champagne,
shoes and clothes fit like custom,
tippin’ hundreds goes for fun,
makin’ all those unpaid café checks fade out,
Stay the fuck way back there.

Yeah…

Up ahead gonna be different,
past these leafless trees we’re passin’,
all this blown-aside road kill,
and drivers like you, Joe Slicko.
I’m findin’ a way to make it,
gonna give Sweetness a real one,
throw that pillow away.

Gonna happen,
robbin’ banks, tendin’ bar,
don’t matter.
Buyin’ a car big as a bus,
have it driven by a uniformed “Yes Sir, No Sir.”
Flash a big ol’ platinum Amex for anything we want,
and when it’s time...

It’ll probably be a fast Bonnie and Clyde kind of getaway.
Trade in the limo for a rocket ride.
Yeah,
shoot for the stars,
take just a new suitcase and bedroll.

Sound like fun, guy?

How about you?

Bet when you come down,
you’ll have a “real” story to tell us, eh?