Clyde

He drove too fast

Wheels screeching

Tires smoking

My knuckles were pale

From gripping the sides of my seat

He smoked to much

Usually mint hookah,

Nothing else

But those flavored clouds

Seemed to cloak his body

He was always mad

Never at me

But if you stared in his direction

Just a second too long

He assumed you wanted to fight.

He went out a lot

Clubs and bars

He threw money at the girls

Said he was helping them pay rent

Knew they needed all they could get

He was self-employed

I'm sure it wasn't legal

But who am I to judge

So I turned my head the other way

He hated sharing me

Kept me as close

As he kept his guns

He was bad for me

The polite college student

And the street smart business man

And yet somehow, I'd rather have him

Than the cute accounting major in my class.