Poems of the Week

Lamborghini to the Slaughter

by Nora Jay

“Boy, 5, told officers he was driving to California to buy Lamborghini sports car—with $3 in his pocket”
The Guardian

When I was young, I must admit, I could be kind of bratty:
I kept expecting Santa Claus to buy me a Bugatti;
But now I’m five, I don’t believe in fairies or a genie,
And so I know it’s up to me to find my Lamborghini.

They make them near Los Angeles, so off I headed early.
I took my parents’ SUV (which is a bit toe-curly):
The steering wheel is kind of tall (it isn’t that I’m teeny),
But achy arms don’t matter when you need a Lamborghini.

I hit the gas, not caring if my legs were getting sorer,
Till suddenly I saw a flashing, boring Ford Explorer.
There was a cop inside of it, and, boy, he was a meanie;
And thanks to him I’ve still not got my three-buck Lamborghini.