ELEGY Poem: My Car My Gun, by John Paul Arnault

Part of me will always be
Left in my car from that night
It ran so long that it was morning
We could’ve talked for another twenty four
And not ran out of things to discuss
Never before had I felt a connection like this
This or that, I guess may be more correct
The stick of gum ran out of flavor
Less than an hour into us
I didn’t mind though
You preoccupied my subconscious
No one can ever sit passenger
And not remind me of you
Burned into the seat like scar tissue

Author: poetryfest

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