I had an Uncle Doug who,
every Sunday,
would grumble and grunt and fuss
his way into his bright green
’73 convertible Corvette,
so that he could drive it around
the neighborhood and feel young again.
He’s dead now, though.
Stroke killed him last year.
And now the car sits under a tarp
in my aunt’s garage.
Sad how that is.
LOU RASMUS
big book guy
Uncle Doug
25 responses to “Uncle Doug”
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that’s too bad
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Immediately reminded me of Rush’s “Red Barchetta”
“Red Barchetta”
My uncle has a country place
That no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm
Before the Motor Law
And on Sundays I elude the eyes
And hop the Turbine Freight
To far outside the Wire
Where my white-haired uncle waits
Jump to the ground
As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline
Run like the wind
As excitement shivers up and down my spine
Down in his barn
My uncle preserved for me an old machine
For fifty odd years
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream
I strip away the old debris
That hides a shining car
A brilliant red Barchetta
From a better vanished time
I fire up the willing engine
Responding with a roar
Tires spitting gravel
I commit my weekly crime //
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wow. very similar. i like it
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LOU RASMUS 
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