Summer of 1978. My sister and
I in the backseat just wait.
We pass the time by making
lines on the seat that we
can't cross, a thin line like
dental floss. She threw my
new blue comb out the
window, somehwere on I-70.
Dad said, "I'm sorry, but we
can't go back.",
we're never going back to
get it. It was the first comb I
ever had. Got it just that
morning from my mom and
my dad. Light blue in color, I
could never have another,
comb like that, big and fat...
So tell me, have you seen my
comb? Last time I saw it, it
was in her hands, and then it
was bouncing down the
road. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't
brown, but now it might be
found lying on the ground. So
tell me, have you seen my
comb?
Driving down the road in
September, I was only five but
I still remember, where the
highway turns at the bottom
of the hill, my parents both up
front 'cause they loved each
other still. Mabye just a comb
made of plastic, or an action
of a sibling lacking couth, but
something that was thrown
out that window, was the last
great symbol of my youth.
Have you seen my
comb? Last time I saw it, it
was in her hands, and then it
was bouncing down the
road. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't
brown, but now it might be
found lying on the ground. So
tell me, have you seen my
comb?