Steve Bissonnette


Trailer Park Breakout


Blue and white single wide,
parked there in my Mama’s drive.
She ain’t home so in I climb,
to take that unit for a ride.
Moonboots on, I’m thinking free,
we’re busting out, Ma’s trailer and me.
Slinking through the Trailer Park,
seeing what’s out there, in the dark.

Televisions twinkle like dying stars
selling T-shirts, selling cars.
Beautiful people with pearly whites
telling me wrong, telling me right.
Plastic Gods, Garden Gnomes,
people in disposable homes.
El Camino’s up on blocks,
statues posed on painted rocks.

Stepping out of the trailer park,
aluminum spaceship, disposable heart
rattles, shakes, and starts to move;
off we go, and off we groove!

Past rows of houses with picket fence
looking for something that makes sense.
Past Grocery Stores, Karaoke bars,
past the people in their cars.
Through boulevards of golden lies,
lights so bright they hide the sky.
Through neighborhoods, windows barred,
through alleyways that hide the scarred.

Guess I’ll leave it all behind,
who knows just what I’ll find?
See you later nine to five,
living life, but not alive.
Looking for that something true,
I bet you’d like to find it too.
We’re smiling, styling, telling lies
and looking for answers, until we die.



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