THE SHOTROD


Our friend Donny Culton surprised us one day
By announcing that his cousin was giving away

A thirty-seven convertible -- no mention of condition --
It had an unknown, to us, name -- a Ford Cabriolet,

Donny was the recipient, he modestly admitted --
At first we thought the giver surely ought to be committed,

But, on second thought, we perceived the omission
Of laudatory adjectives -- missing although permitted,

It wasn't long after young Donny's admission
That the car was a freebie, in unsound condition --

Young Culton showed up -- hotrodding after school --
It was apparent that it met the oil burner and knocking rods tradition,

Don hadn't long owned that white elephant of green
When he sold it to the Draper kids -- they thought it was keen,

Our small town was elated when the homely beast showed up --
Some short-lived jubilation -- it held a homecoming queen,

One afternoon the oxymoron went to the city dump --
Towed without ceremony -- no transmission beneath the hump,

The green weenie was neither hot nor what we deemed a rod,
I won't forget the two-by-four -- the seat collapsed with a thump.

by D. Edgar Murray 06/07/2000.