Grandpa Makes a Wrong Turn
I’m headin’ to a birthday party
It’s way out in the boonies
My grandpa’s goin’ to drop me off
Each mile, he gets more moody
Even the dashboard compass is lost
He curses under his breath
“Damn invitation map!”
Drive and read … drive and read
The card lay opened in his lap
He’s “pissed” I learn
He’s missed the turn
But that’s not all he’s missed
Across a barren field
A scarecrow draped upon crucifix
A crow-cifix
While Gramps performs a five-point turn
His face has now turned red
I stare across this barren field
And swear it turned its head
Grandpa apologized
“It’s too late now—I’ll just have to take you home.”
“Okay,” I said, all frightened now,
Too scared to be left alone
