Poem for Cara from "Poverty is no Disgrace"

Pickup Trucks

Never fall in love with iron

But credit to the woman

who tolerates the man

with a pathological need

to run a trade in used cars

and pickup trucks.

So often, being of the male

persuasion, I've wanted the

freedom to behave stupidly;

but then wonder how come

you didn't apply the brakes?

How come you didn't say:

"What the hell is wrong

with you?"

No, you'd rather rub

that salt into the wound--

hugging me and kissing

me and telling me

you love me so much.