After Thoughts
The Poetry of J. Hodges


As I drove through the toll booth
in my spectacular brand new super-fragalistic car
Sound ablazin’, motor a racin’
The one they said was sure to be a star
Not manufactured in decades, to be sure
Low numbers, high demand, sure to be a winner
Sure to appeal to the masses

Every wife, daughter, mistress, girlfriend, lover, and girl next door with glasses would fane for the privilege to get off of their asses and test drive the most spectacular automobile ever seen in twenty-five years. A low-profile convertible with Armor All’d tires and automatic doors

To be seen in the most spectacular car, the automobile manufactured for the price that anyone could afford, or
just be bored with whatever their spouse could afford

No! How can we pass up such a deal for the most spectacular car in twenty-five years?

The toll-booth girl, pretty and black
was in my seat in two seconds flat
standing up in the seat on a busy main street
waving her arms in the air
with not seeming a care

I took her to a shop where we bought some sexy clothes and other wares. We laughed and laughed until the store was closed. Then, came the sex and the grind, the moves that blew my mind. My love for the car diminished as she overtook my, well, you know

No oil change needed, my ego conceded
The car so exceeded that nothing was left but her coal

Still, the fever was seeded and the thought was repeated again and again until I bought another and another and sold to every sister, brother, and stupid mother fucker on the planet

Just goes to show.

High demand, production low, made me some money. That’s how I roll.