It had a 289 and four on the floor,
Mickey Thompsons all around.
At nineteen I couldn't ask for more,
It's wheels barely touched the ground.
It was maroon, with white racing stripes,
It was a dream come true.
It could really roll, and that's no hype,
My Mustang really flew.
Santana and The Eagles came from the deck,
And Jr. Walkers hot torrid sax.
All around, it commanded respect,
It was Ford engineering to the max.
I loved that car, I swear I did,
I'll never see it's like again.
It was the one that fed my id,
It used to drive the girls insane.
10/8/11 Alton Texas
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Comments about this poem (1967 Mustang by Juan Olivarez )
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