It was a toasted Texas Tuesday rocking down Route 66 quashing sleep with fists of wide-eye wake-me-ups.
I swished by wacky Wigwam Inns, tore through insect tempests, flirted with roller-skating, bare-skinned, drive-ined Marilyns.
I was neon I was come on I was Major Betucan.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This poem was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #16: First Sentences, which required that the first phrase in the text must be used as given. Read other Creative Challenge winners. To find out how to participate, go to Creative Challenges.