But hark! What shape is yonder copper boat?
And if it be the owner's will to sell,
Will green paper release it from his dote,
Or angrily will he curse me to hell?
Seventy-six to seventy-eight it is,
Excellent years for the Grand Marquis.
Nay, but no car can tear my eyes from this,
One of the finest two-door Mercuries.
Though I can but see the back of this ride,
Blocked by a Sherbet Pearl monstrosity,
Only but from the back passenger's side,
The rest of it's glory I need not see.
Despite my desire for a car as such,
The owner probably wants too damn much.
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Yeah, so I haven't updated in a couple of months, so I figured I'd throw some pointless pretentious poetry at you (how's that for alliteration?). This piece was inspired by a picture I saw on Ricecop's Rice or Not of a really ugly pink street rod (mentioned here as the "Sherbet Pearl monstrosity"). The sonnet is about wanting to see more of the copper-colored '70s-vintage Mercury behind it, and how I'm a hopelessly weird enthusiast for liking such a looked-down-upon vehicle.
See you next month, assuming I have an actual topic to write about.