Three things I like: WABC,
the Dodgers, and fast cars with the windows open.
I mean really like — and I prove it because
though a slacker, when the radio’s broken
I’ll quick get it repaired, and I’ll sit
with a transistor crushing my ear
listening to an inconsequential game
on a thousand mile far-off station
just to catch the score, or walk out in the rain
to get a paper, leaf through the sports section,
then put it back on the stand. And fast cars
because if a friend should come in, even
while I’m writing a poem, and say,
“Man, let’s go for a drive” — I’ll go.
— Easton, PA, 1965
