Marie had nothin’ to prove;
she was a wheel-man, and a made man,
ever since that Boston job in oh eight.
She could fit a six foot wide car
through a four foot gap,
without scratchin’ the paint
She lived upstate, in a big house outside town
with a long curved drive, ‘least a quarter mile
from the front gate to the front door.
When she raced –
she’d always wait for you at the finish line
smilin’ and leanin’ against her ride with the
motor tickin’ as it cooled down
Last night a drunk ran the red
at Grand and 17th
She didn’t deserve that.