Driving without poetic license

Fargo to Key Largo

We were driving from Fargo to Key Largo.

We got pulled over to the side of the ode for being high on 80-proof inspiration.

My muse was in the back seat tokin’ with Jesus. Our stuff was in the trunk with the rum and the beer. We’d packed in a hurry.

We made one stop, somewhere in the Peach State. I put the make on Georgia. Then we headed straight on down for the Florida line.

Just outside of Valdosta Georgia, a cop car came wailing out of the woods.

In a hurry ole man? Gimme five C notes and you can be on your way. If you got no cash it’s the pokey for you.

Who the hell’s got five C notes! They had us nailed, me for speedin’ and my muse for tokin’.

The judge threw the book at us, something really horrible, like a Danielle Steele bestseller.

So there we were with the prose and the cons, locked away in writers block, seven hours from the Keys. An old man with faded memories, and a muse who was not amused.

Mich / Drawing by Kafka

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