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Your sheet metal doth th’ impression fill
Which sanctioned sponsors stamped upon my bonnet;
What cares Tonto for foreign cars,
The horse is happy in my carburetor.
You are my Daytona,
My fruitful Dale,
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
Can take your place at the pole.
In so profound abyss am I lapped,
Of others’ voices in the pitstop.
To suffer such outlandish abuse in switching lanes
Mark with my bumper I do dispense.
You are so strongly in my engine block bred,
No longer do I mourn, now the flag is raised.
good poem, its great!
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