Drunk Driving In Mississippi [Repost, but whatever] (646 hits)
Category: Quotes & Stories -> PoetryRating: 1.16 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by puck (View user info) at 2008-10-21 22:46:45 EDT
the air was was thick as cream that night and
sitting on an old wooden stool, green and chipping paint,
i told the bartender my worries over a twenty dollar bottle of bourbon.
outside the streets were desolate, save the fog ghosts lingering in the air,
and the silver watch in my pocket ticked away the minutes steadily;
it was a quarter past eleven.
my reeling head helped the situation none as i staggered,
smoking a menthol cigarette and reeking of liquor,
into the old jalopy i had parked at the corner.
i cranked up the old eight-track, playing fifty cent mixtapes from the thriftstore,
and weaved my way down the yellow lines of an empty road.
stores dissolved into houses into farms into fields into nothing,
barreling along on those Mississippi midnight highways.
it was getting near Witching Hour when i saw the lights,
red and blue strobes in my rearview, and me sober enough to remember to pull over,
i park the car and grab my registration, but not before sparking another cigarette,
and the cop's boots crunch the sand and dirt on the shoulder of the road.
his eyes are behind mirrored shades, but i get the impression of infinity staring through;
a shiver runs down my spine, and i hand him my papers.
"Have you been drinking, son?" his voice felt like ice in my ears.
I shook my head and his lips parted to reveal a yellow smile,
"Lying is another sin. We like them sinners down here."
I was confused, took a drag off my smoke, and asked what he meant.
The officer didn't bother to reply, just handed me a ticket to sign,
though I'm pretty sure I read something about "Immortal Soul."
His boots crunched back into his car, and as he drove off down the road,
I could see the silhouette of him and a dog riding shotgun.
________________________
i wouldn't have to repost this months and months down the road if one of you uneducated cunts had grasped the actual idea behind it.
fuck you all. go listen to more robert johnson. FUCKIN' A.
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2008-10-23 16:59:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2008-10-23 09:06:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
work on the format.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-10-22 08:18:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Robert Johnson +2
"Hell Hound on my Trail" is a great song.
I've been listening to more Leadbelly lately though, like the original version of "Where did you sleep last night" or "Black Betty" are some of my favorites, just because I like to listen to them and compare what the modern equivalants did differently.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2008-10-22 07:56:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I like to drive rural and back roads at night here in Missouri, especially late summer and into fall.
Corn fields are scary under a full moon and livestock looks menacing.
I need to write a horror story about this and what might happen to someone who gets lost on these dark back roads.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2008-10-22 02:37:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't even know what asian boobs are. That is, I don't know how they're different from non-Asian boobs. Jeuse. I can't fight against non-sensical ramblinsht. And shti. You know.?
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2008-10-21 23:46:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read this with Tom Waits' voice in my head. It worked.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2008-10-21 22:49:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
at least there was a picture at the end of all that 'whatthefucki'mnotreadingallthat'.