I'm not a coming of age novelist

tattered and dog eared

dropped beneath a chair in a street cafe

I'm a three piece suit from 1940

riddled with Tommy gun bullet holes

On St. Valentines Day

I'm a Cadillac 

patched and oily

    Smelling like gasoline

    Empty peanut butter jars

JIF

in the backseat 

   IM A MISTER PEANUT

ANTENNA THING