Hot Rod Lincoln

A Song by Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen


If nothing ever sticks to Teflon, how do you make Teflon stick to the pan?

Why is it when you transport something by car it’s called a shipment,
but when you transport something by ship it’s called cargo?

If a cow laughed really hard, would milk come out her nose?


A Poem by John Grey

A thousand people
cram into a block or two of sidewalk
on a hell-hot steamy Saturday afternoon
in New Orleans –

pallbearers and coffin ease their way
through the throng
to the slow rolling rhythms
of a brass band –

street dancers follow the body,
their partners
the parasols above their heads
and the flowing scarves
wrapped around the wrist –

an old woman
looks out over her iron-grill balcony,
a drunk abandons half a glass of beer,
stumbles out of the bar –

the dead wouldn’t miss this
for the world.


A Poem by Michael Estabrook

Retired, we only have one car,
and the wife . . . well she’s the boss you know
like all wives are
can be stingy with the car, need it
for a “business meeting”
or some special shopping urgency blah blah blah
hey wait a minute I’m the man of the house aren’t I?

I’m gonna demand the use of that car today
I’m gonna march right up to her and stare into
her pretty shining brown eyes
and state sternly
like I really mean it “I’m using the car today toots
whether you like it or not. Put that
in your pipe and smoke it!”
Well, on second thought.

When Our Eyes Would Meet At The Station

A Poem by Michael Estabrook

One Friday night the winter of 1971
I got the last seat on the bus home, back row
in the middle, the worst seat.
Sleet and snow turned
the one hour ride into two
and the woman beside me fell asleep
on my shoulder her name was Jean,
24 years old working at Fortunoff’s
in New York City.

She was tall, pretty and pleasant,
with long brown hair. We’d say hi
when our eyes would meet at the station.
I liked her and watched her closely
could tell she hated it when men—
especially middle-aged businessmen
with plump wives and kids in college—
made passes at her.

But I never did that, I only said hi
when our eyes would meet at the station.
But that was enough for me
because I was young, life
was still a mystery
and she never
fell asleep on any of their shoulders
like she had on mine.