The Canvas Car

I was 7 years old with a blunt-like head

Smelling smoke made me numb

The rocks had given me a prodigious feel

The Kangra Fort, The Dilwara Temple, The Mahishasura Mardini Cave
The most ravishing art was made out of stone

But like Leonardo Da vinci, I needed a canvas

A sturdy foundation with a strong infrastructure

Something that would keep my engine of ideas flowing
Low in behold, my neighbor’s black Lincoln is sitting in the driveway

I knew the art I would make would impact my peers for generations

Each scratch I made to the metal was a new beginning

They were like brush strokes in the wind
I invited my mom to see my gallery of ideas

She saw the damage of knowledge I  made to the car

As soon as she saw it , she lit a blunt and sat on the front porch in disarray

I asked her if she was happy with my work
She lit another blunt and before I knew it my art became pain

My big, fat, blunt-head finally got lit up with a belt

But not just any belt, the belt of knowledge

For it was that belt that taught me to never vandalize again, it’s not art.

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