I was walking down the highway from Worcester
to neighboring Shrewsbury, Massachusetts in
search of a job due to pressures from my wife
to stop drinking and listening to Frank Zappa
in my pajamas all day long.
a high spirited Brazilian gentlemen in a baby blue
convertible pulled over and offered me a ride into
town that led to him groping my inner thigh almost
up to my scrotum.
I jumped out of the car at the first stop light we hit,
dashing into a nearby Cumberland Farms, where
I hid behind magazines until the manager forced
me to buy something.
I rushed to my apartment with a bag filled with
convenience store ramen noodles and a 40 oz.
bottle of Steele Reserve malt liquor that shattered
against the salted glaciers of sidewalk I nearly
broke my skull on in a frenzied sprint across it to
evade his advancing vehicle, his horn blaring as
he yelled "come back to me my darling" in his
best Portuguese Pepe Lepew.
as I told my wife this harrowing tale of innocence
lost, her cherry tonsil shook its head at me with
disdain as she laughed all the way until our divorce