It appears
to me, dear,
’less I’m all
kinds of dumb,
that you’re un-
schooled in the
proper use
of your digits.
Good grief,
Sis, I’m
being wicked
legitimate!
Think short,
think stubby,
heck, you
know the ones,
what I’m talking
about here’s
the best use
of your thumbs!
What’s the big
fun with just
sitting here
on the couch,
pumping that
little black
box with
a stick, when
you could
be riding
a truck
driver’s dick
while seeing
the world
and for free,
little sis!?
You’ll be fly-
ing down roads
ticking state
Nope! How
after state
off your bucket
off your bucket
of lists,
oh dear sis,
and all this
you can
do [Maestro,
give me
some drum!]
using nothing
at all save
your two
stubby thumbs.
Did you think
you can
do [Maestro,
give me
some drum!]
using nothing
at all save
your two
stubby thumbs.
Did you think
that you had
them there just
for the sucking?
Or for stick-
for the sucking?
Or for stick-
ing them both
in my face like
they’re sore ones?
Nope! How
about using them
just to ride free
to New Orleans?!
Leave it to
me, hon,
I’ll show
you the way.
Trust me,
it won’t even
take half
a day.
Pop your arm
out right at
ninety
degrees,
hang a few
minutes
while catchin’
the breeze,
in no time
flat (on this
you must
trust me),
the trucks’ll
be lined up
behind you
in threes!
Once that
thumb’s brought
your whole world
to a standstill,
just sneak
a few glances
through all of
the windshields,
determine the
best lookin’
driver
you see,
walk to him
with confi-
dence just
as you please.
(Careful, now,
watch me, don’t
slink and
don’t sleaze!)
He’s rolled
down his
window you
lean in and breathe
and say “Hey,
won’t you take
me to Holly-
wood? Please?”
As Tricia re-
counts all
of this
somber story
she holds
back her tears,
how she misses
dear Lorrie,
the girl whom
she taught way
back then, her
kid sis,
how to travel
the world with
the flick of
her wrist.
She never
once saw
Lorrie
ever again.
She’d also
not thought,
at least
until then,
what a teacher,
a mentor,
that she
might’ve been.
She spent
week upon
week and then
month upon month,
feeling down
on herself,
in despair,
all pent up.
But then
when she’d
kicked about
all of the gravel
plumb out of
the drive at
her home’s
front lawn,
she thought for
a moment and
soon she
was gone
to apply for a
Leave it to
me, hon,
I’ll show
you the way.
Trust me,
it won’t even
take half
a day.
Pop your arm
out right at
ninety
degrees,
hang a few
minutes
while catchin’
the breeze,
in no time
flat (on this
you must
trust me),
the trucks’ll
be lined up
behind you
in threes!
Once that
thumb’s brought
your whole world
to a standstill,
just sneak
a few glances
through all of
the windshields,
determine the
best lookin’
driver
you see,
walk to him
with confi-
dence just
as you please.
(Careful, now,
watch me, don’t
slink and
don’t sleaze!)
He’s rolled
down his
window you
lean in and breathe
and say “Hey,
won’t you take
me to Holly-
wood? Please?”
As Tricia re-
counts all
of this
somber story
she holds
back her tears,
how she misses
dear Lorrie,
the girl whom
she taught way
back then, her
kid sis,
how to travel
the world with
the flick of
her wrist.
She never
once saw
Lorrie
ever again.
She’d also
not thought,
at least
until then,
what a teacher,
a mentor,
that she
might’ve been.
She spent
week upon
week and then
month upon month,
feeling down
on herself,
in despair,
all pent up.
But then
when she’d
kicked about
all of the gravel
plumb out of
the drive at
her home’s
front lawn,
she thought for
a moment and
soon she
was gone
to apply for a
job; and where,
you ask, well,
none other than
Ms. Minerva’s
Happiest
Vacations &
Travels!
(Where, my
(Where, my
dear friend Trish,
and quite hap-
pily I’d say,
has been gain-
fully employed
right to this
very day!)
