Maybe dynamite is a good idea

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Midnight and Hunter is wearing sunglasses

Leaning against his forty-foot red Cadillac convertible

He shoots imaginary jack rabbits in the silver desert

Cactus Ed checks the radio

A road trip without music is intolerableEdward-Abbey-Still-Frame

He tosses a crushed beer can to the side of the road

Only forty-eight more of those until next water

Ed measures miles by beers and litters highways freely

It’s not nature’s highway after all, it’s man’s

Goddamn jackrabbits! Hunter throws his gun in the back seat

Cranks the radio knob hard to the right

A bursts of organ chords level out his mescaline jitters. The Tambourine Man strips menace from the air

A trunk full of Budweiser, cocaine, Wild Turkey, and ammunition

Cactus Ed, loading one last box, jokes about dynamite

An arrest warrant for Ed, the billboard pyromaniac, bulldozer saboteur

Hunter says the Hell’s Angels are On his trail

Maybe the dynamite is a good idea

Ed squeezes in, I’m crushed between the anarchist and the GonzoDwight_conver

 

 

 

 

A whiff of beer and weed, sweat and gunpowder, sagebrush and dust from the darkness

Cadillac piston’s scream alive, Dylan sings wearily

Hunter scoffs at the the Texaco across the road

We have fuel, he grins, cigarette smoke slithering

With the right music, blasting loud enough

Over woof of wind

Scream of mescaline,

Buzz of whiskey

And thunder of gunfire

(Goddamn jackrabbits!)

With the right music, we can drive 50 miles after the needle hits empty

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