The Theft

Evidently it was not a feat of wizards
   requiring formal technical know how
Just a screwdriver jammed in the ignition
Stuff of childish attrition
Down the hill they rolled
My little car they stole
Must have been some kids out for joy
  riding or a part's order for a chophouse boy
What relief in three days when the cop did call
They'd found the little vehicle in a far-flung mall
The thoughtful thieves had broken the key
  entry but left a screwdriver there for me
And with a twist it roared to life with that familiar sound
But there was a vile smell around
The garbage of a fast food lunch lay beneath the seat
Reminding us, I suppose, that thieves must stop to eat
My box of tools had gone array
Some cigarettes lost in the fray
Several coins and dollar bills
A dildoe that gave my girlfriend thrills
A box of condoms also purloined
That would fit a burglar's gal's loins
My contribution to control
The criminal population's birth toll
They left me on the small back seat
A book of poems discrete
The works of Ezra Pound abandoned there
My hoodlums I assume were unaware
the joys of the literati
And in between the sandwiched pages
 a Kleenex filled with snotty
They never knew, those dirty thieves
That this car had seen some scenes
Of filthy sex, debauchery,
  the blood of virgins stained the seats
That sperm filled babes were weekly feasts
That prostitutes had sucked my cock
And spread their legs so I could fock
In these cramped quarters were memories
of epic demonstrations
Of human effort, sweat and moans of jubilation
You can steal my chalice, my carriage gilt,
  but not the memories of the cum I've spilt
After all is said and done
It's just a car, I've had my fun
The night has come and I'm ready to run