Nov 11, 2014
2007 Volkswagen Beetle
My first car was like you. It was shitty and smelled of barbecue hot pockets and sweat. The engine would take me so far until We’d be stuck, on the side of the freeway disappointed and upset. Me, trying to figure out what went wrong, trying to figure out how to fix it. You, waiting for somebody to make it better, waiting for it all to be over. I exhaust you. I’m just the burnt gas and toxic fumes that trails behind you’re once ambitious miles that dissolves into nothingness. Yeah, my first car was like you. All used up and ready to croak; but I kept the key in your ignition, ready to drive whenever the sun was down and now look where we are.
-Geneva June