Peter Ramos

Smoke on the Water

Days my Flying-V blared through a stolen Fender Twin: motherfuck you and all the neighbors.  At night I drew the shades, turned on the blacklight and burned the purple candle.  I lurked in the roller rinks and grew out my hair.  Rolled joints with your daughter in the fancy living-room while you and the old lady snored.  I took her rumbling out of your neighborhood in my jacked-up GTO.  Parked by a dumpster.  Drank Thunderbird, backseated.  We balled until morning wiped out the stars & pigeons cried like brats.  Pulled into the Citgo to clean and fill with racing fuel, a tank to burn.  We broke our teeth in the windshield.