(c) Jannike Kayser      









The old pink car

It is an Indian summer day.
The heat is killing my friends.
The strawberries are big and juicy.
Sweet dream that never ends.

The steering wheel is shaking.
The car is pink and old.
The wind is blowing in their hair.
The beer is good and cold.

Riding through the countryside.
Smiling through the day.
A holiday with no worries.
What more is there to say.

The mountains full of peace and calm.
The fiord is deep and long.
They speed up to reach the ferry.
The car sings a dead-slow-song.

One of them hitch-hikes on the road.
The four of them are hiding.
A blond woman in a big blue car.
She stops for them, big mouth smiling.

Your car is beautiful and old.
Will you please give it to me?
Borrow my car for your holiday?
She asks, old Mrs. Lee

They think about it for a while.
Ten days, would that be ok?
She agrees with a big, white smile.
And soon they drive away.

She uses her mobile telephone,
calling home to the auto shop.
Then her husband comes to see her.
His kisses never stop.

He loves old cars. It is his passion.
This car is very unique.
A car from the old and golden days.
A gold mine so to speak.

Some weeks later the car is fixed.
House rented out and free to seek.
Driving around the country.
Happy couple cheek to cheek.

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