Creature of the Night -- A poem for Holt

There he was
my idol since age 6
john cougar mellencamp
swaying his hips on the side of the freeway
like some kind of
ancient titan

I drove slowly passed
in my convertible Stiny-ray
it was all shined up
my grandmother helped me wax it
she was so good to me

I gotta poo
but I smeell your's oozing out,
said Mr. Holt that night
as we curled down the banks
of the golden Ohio

The river, its glow
the silly hoot-owl
pissing on a branch
it was all there
for our taking
Miami was finally within our grasp