Red Rocket

Hey pretty baby,
chrome-rimmed fast cars
in your dreams,
rocket-red
blazing fast
down the newborn highways.

Pretty baby in blue heels,
pink cardigan sweater
and a schoolgirl smile.
Sitting pretty on the plastic sofa,
waiting for her leather jacket,
greased hair.

Stiff blue denim and 
drive-in movies.
Fooling around in the
backseat of paradise.
Good little girl
on the Honor Roll.

Taillights streaking down the
freeway after curfew
on a Friday Free night.
Red lipstick smudging onto
teeth, from the smiling,
smudging on his t-shirt collar.
Dreaming of California days
like all the pretty faces always do.

Driving over the sands of Nevada
on fumes towards the motherland.
Westward pushing, pulling
passenger seat dreaming.
Radio sugar-pop
for the candied lips to sing
to, sunglasses and magazines
in the daytime.
Here, pretty baby,
with your man right-hand,
onto the coast.

Maps folded on her lap, feet on the dash,
slick-haired greaser behind the wheel.
Surfer life and beachy nights
for miss teen America.
Pearly whites to get the guy,
get the waves to smile back.
Waiting for the palm trees.

Blindsided by the sand storms
and heat waves,
nights on park benches,
help ads,
want ads
and the baby feet coming on.

Pretty baby with starry eyes,
hoping for paradise in 
the back seat of rocket-red
chrome fender with leather jackets
and sock hops. 

Blinded by the new neon and
shiny life,
skipping school
for cheap tricks,
pretty baby 
never got far.