Bury your mother in New Jersey

 

 

            I’d like to help you folks find your mother.

            But I don’t know squat about New Jersey.

            I’m lucky I got out of that place a live let alone remember where I stashed her.

            I know it’s not fair.

            You can take comfort in the fact that I’m going to do time for this.

            I didn’t mean any harm.

            You people being rich, however, wouldn’t understand how bad it gets downtown on a hot summer day when you don’t have air conditioning. You get sick of sitting on a roof breading in all those car fumes.

            All I wanted was some open space, a little ride out into the country where I could get a breath of fresh air.

            I wouldn’t have done this if I could have found my buddies. Those I could find didn’t have a car.

            Maybe I couldn’t think straight with the heat and depression and all.

            I stole cars before – and even spent time in the joint for it. But I wouldn’t have taken this one if I had been in my right mind.

            The temptation – with the engine running and the car door open – was irresistible. I just hopped in and took off.

            People on the curb shouted for me to stop, but I didn’t listen.

            I didn’t notice the smell of flowers until I was already on the road. By then, I was too busy groovin on the air conditioning to care where the smell came from.

            I even turned on the stereo and blasted the music as a cruised up West Side Avenue.

            That’s when the cops spotted me.

            Sure, I should have stopped.

            Had I been a little less crazy, I might have.

            I mean, I didn’t want to go back to the joint just for a joy ride.

            So I took off, the smell of those flowers making me dizzy as I drove.

            And boy did that buggy fly!

            Who knew a box like that could go so fast.

            I was through the Lincoln Tunnel and out into the swamps of Jersey before I knew it.

            But I knew the Jersey cops would be on to me. So I dumped the crate in the river, watching it long enough to make sure it sank. Then, I made my way back to the highway where I hitched a ride back to Manhattan where the cops were waiting for me.

            I didn’t know the thing was a hearse or that your mother was in it until the cops told me she was.

But I can’t tell you where along the river I dumped her.

All I know is she’s buried in Jersey.

 


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