The Mailbox

Speeding down Wagonhals on the gravel one day;

You were being stupid and drove into the cluster mailbox.

What would you say? You told me to lie and to cover for you,

for your problems would not go away on a que.

Cops asked if you had been drinking, you said, “Heck yes, after that!”;

You said some cars had been street racing and ran you off the flat.

Into the giant mailbox you had to go.

I’m not sure how you passed the sobriety test,

or how the cops actually believe the lies you manifest.