Oct., 2004
Her Daddy waves goodnight beneath the yellow porch light.
She slides onto the seat. She pulls in tight.
She lets her hair loose. It falls just right.
The Wildcat’s eyes plow a path into the night.
But Carla doesn’t know and Carla doesn’t care
About the tension in the engine of the Wildcat’s lair
As the Mississippi wind cascades through her hair.
And life feels good, and life feels fair.
A hand on her cheek and the other one there,
I can’t see by the red and yellow runway glare.
But the soft, the warm, the honeysuckle air,
And I know when she goes “oooh” that I met her dare.
But Carla doesn’t care, and Carla doesn’t know,
When I press my toe into the 4-3-0,
That the night and the winds are under our control.
And the Wildcat growls, and the Wildcat knows.
The night’ll never end; the sun will never rise.
I swear that all I want is hidden in her smoky eyes.
But wanting isn’t having and my soul just cries
For the when that will answer all of the whys.
But Carla doesn’t care, and Carla doesn’t know.
With a peck on her neck I can feel her back bow.
And the Wildcat growls, and the Wildcat knows.