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He drove a great white shark,

Fins, pink upholstery, bad steering, the works.

So when I see those old Ambassadors,

Cadillacs, Pontiacs, loyal rockets

Rustily lumbering around corners,

I catch myself going like hello,

As if I might suddenly bark.

As if this all were a comedy

And we were still drinking our way,

Singing our way across the Utah desert

Toward perfections of irresponsibility,

Laughing at a slippery ribbon of midnight,

I go like hello to greet the car

That is not his car.  Then, in a kind of tomorrow,

I watch the machine that need has marked

And remarked with errands and mistakes

Glide by, glide by, going like goodbye.

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