Flat Out

Flat out,
Cruising the desert floor,
Sven gunned it.

Not a car in sight,
Heat waves rising off the road,
Holding on for dear life,
As if on a barrel-powered rocket engine,
A young buck and his filly in a Mustang convertible,
Top up to fend off the sun,
Heat baking the world of scrub brush.

Heading to Vegas,
Bakersfield left behind,
A weekend of wild fun,
Bankrolled by a lottery ticket win,
Change back from Thursday morning coffee, roll,
And big black bold headlines:
"We won, Baby, let's get married!"

Just a lucky break,
An extra $25-grand
In his wallet,
In his pants,
In the seat,
Behind the wheel.

Flat out,
Cruising the desert floor,
Sven gunned it.

For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
April 20, 2011