Traffic Tickets Aren't Funny

from Perfect Sleeping Weather by Larry Fulford

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Scrawled into notebooks from the familiar comforts of temporary homes and the passenger seats of mechanically unsound vehicles adrift on the highways and back roads of America, Perfect Sleeping Weather is fifteen years of thoughts, observations, facts, and fictions hammered into a collection of poetry that, according to one reader, "sounds like a sigh."

In this, his first book, writer/drummer/comedian Larry Fulford reflects on the usual -- life, death, love and leaving -- while still managing to name-check Van Halen. Twice.

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lyrics

Tonight I'm going to do it for the cemetery
of discarded airline headphones
under salt & pepper shaker tombstones
with the fine print of broken leases
(of broken homes)
ironed on as epitaphs.

As soon as we landed, I started to miss my first car
and all the crumbs that evaded
little vacuums.
The rust-kissed trunk full of memories.
I suddenly wanted to track down whomever
bought it for parts and ask him or her
what his or her favorite part was.

The New York cold stole my reflection
in a tinted window of some
four-star fiasco
with ice in my beard
while cliff note careerists tore along the perforated
edge of Tuesday's remaining daylight
like scissor-fisted soldiers on a mission
to hurry.

I know how this movie ends.
Don't feel like sitting through it again.