In August

In August Max bought a sprawling new car with fat tires.
Daddy said your brother drives too fast
flat out since the day he was born.

Daddy wrote a new song.
He played it, and I taught Nan to dance.
Daddy sent a tape of samples to a man in Nashville.
The man said Daddy could’ve made it
twenty years ago.

That fall Max flipped his car through the air and crashed it,
trashed off his ass.
Daddy said Max had it coming.