There's nothing

Like the fruit tree

    With its leaves stripped bare

 (Who stripped who?)

     Like a young girl in the spring

     Hyacinth blooms in her nose

Or the smell of the seats and the metal 

Of a 63 Catalina car

Parked in your grandparents garage 

The smell of a cold garage 

On a thanksgiving day

The turkey is cooking 

Metal tumblers with pop

Bubbles and a color tv

Your uncle yells at the TV

Football game

And at you

get outta the way

But he was always a drunk asshole