Riding shotgun with a nine-horse
engine, sipping dunkin donuts cups
of genuine hazelnut coffee.
With backstreet drivers calling out to
damn your, inane singing with the
latest on the radio.
The bass of 95.7 bobbing your head
in time with the steady rolling of traffic
in this small town-city.
Changing your idea of so called 'good
music' to a quieter phrase of the classics.
A Maynard fan in the works.
Yup, so this is a little poem I wrote about Wes. It doesn't really relate too much to The Truth about Forever but it reminded me of him.
I'd really love it if you'd review :D
Thanks!
Maggie