Driving a cardboard automobile without a license <br /> at the turn of the century <br /> my father ran into my mother <br /> on a fun-ride at Coney Island <br /> having spied each other eating <br /> in a French boardinghouse nearby <br /> And having decided right there and then <br /> that she was right for him entirely <br /> he followed her into <br /> the playland of that evening <br /> where the headlong meeting <br /> of their ephemeral flesh on wheels <br /> hurtled them forever together <br /> <br /> <br />And I now in the back seat <br /> of their eternity <br /> reaching out to embrace them<br /><br />Lawrence Ferlinghetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/driving-a-cardboard-automobile-without-a-license/
