(based on a true story. It is recommended that you sort of sing it, once you establish the rhythm)
Roll into Pasadena, sly low, sub radar
Incognito in effect, in a brown borrowed car
Bang out Jenny’s numbers, a sequence known in song
Don’t dial the ones in lyrics, for Liang these are wrong
Goes one ring then goes four, I stare down passers by
A CLICK and some hello’s, then the pace begins to fly:
“This place is RIDICULOUS!” fires Jenny from the Center,
“It’s bad enough just being, a SoCal apartment renter!”
With pedal to the metal, my lead foot brings me quick
Her Walgreen’s watch barely sounds, a toc or even tic
We kick it on some stairs, catch a breath, maybe two
Then it’s time to put the Center in that mirror called “rear view”
I punch it hard and spin, the car fish tails left and right
The margin to hitting things is scary very slight
We break smiles at this recklessness, the tunes are twisted loud
Fading from our view, her troubles in dust cloud
We zip about the gridded streets, with a shrug of who cares where
Jenny takes the pose of a person in lounge chair
Dinner springs to mind, and soon we’re chowing eats
Good Mexican food devoured, our yearning moves to Peet’s
Back on the boulevard, cast as bonnie and clyde
I steer it to the Peet’s, and park the borrowed ride
We spill out from the Camry, cross the lot, pass milk crates
Jenny’s eyes balloon to big, in her mind are heard debates
Take them or leave them be, her brow wrinkles over choice
She struggles to make out, the one and righteous voice
I push her past her struggle, through glass doors, to destination
And yet in my own head, launches a similar conversation
But then we’re learning foo foo drinks, from good guy ‘hind the counter
We leave with free samples, new knowledge from encounter
Passing crates, pausing briefly…I scoop up one in stride
My pace quickens to the Camry, with the urgency of Clyde
Again, we’re both thrilled, bandits having fun
We don’t so much as walk the lot, so much as we do run
I key us into brown Camry, we buckle for escape
But before I turn the key, something shapes our mouths agape
A mystery, conundrum, a puzzle queer and quirky
Jenny puts it’s best with: “Where the hell’s the jerky?!”
Her bag is gone, the crate is missing, my seat is moved a little
We stare at each other, bug-eyed from this riddle
I bolt from the Camry, unsure what I’m gonna do
A thief has hit us quickly? Is there someone to pursue?!
I crane about frantically, adrenaline begins to leak
My brain strains for logic, answers, what I seek
A possibility leaps to mind, in a story from time past
Faint light of explanation, this recollection begins to cast
Keys to different Camry’s can work in doors not intended
One key will often open, any Camry unattended
Walking to the cars, I chose a Camry brown in tone
But instead of getting Raj’s car, I got one he didn’t own
I wheel around in search of Camry, brown, with crate in back
Two spaces down sits the car, that puts our brains on track
Fast explanation to Jenny, a scramble to proper car
Our minds still reeling, over freaky scene bizarre
I’m peeling out in silence, we’re both stunned at what we’ve been through
Eventually we look at each other, and verbal a review
We laugh and then get tired, trauma draining us of juice
Both beaming wide appreciation of what life can produce
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There’s some insider humor here but I post nonetheless to entertain and to educate. They call that, wincingly, edutainment. Don’t kill the messenger. He’s got miles to go before he sleeps.