When the Aliens Stole My Car


So many things have happened,
I don't know where to start.
I think it all began
when the Aliens stole my car.

My car wasn't much to look at,
and it didn't go too fast,
but it got me where I had to go,
and didn't use much gas.

The car was black and silver,
the hood bent and askew,
there was a dent in the left front fender,
a fond reminder of you.

The speedometer was broken,
the windshield chipped and scratched,
the radio popped and hissed and hummed,
but all the speakers matched.

The car was leaking fluids,
it left oil stains on the ground,
the grill fell off on the highway,
and could never again be found.

I wonder where they're going,
in that beat up car of mine?
Are they just joyriding?
Are they having a good time?

Why the Aliens stole my car,
I really just can't say.
I asked the policeman several times,
but he just looked away.

The Aliens stole my car
and I'm filled with hurt and rejection.
The spaceship that they left in its place
won't pass motor vehicle inspection.



Ed Hoyer Jr.
Copyright 1991.