Driver. Forty-two. Sober, Eating Grass and Well Within his Rights!

This poem of my dream was originally entitled 'DRIVER, 42, DRUNK, SMOKING POT AND RACIST.' but the title was changed because people refused to understand both the accuracy, the intention and the simplicity of the statement. I wonder iff U CAN?
(Scotland, my home land, is hardly world renowned for it's UFO sightings. My birthday is March 21,1971. My brothers birthday is February 20 1969, Kurt Cobain's by coincidence.)

Who was the driver
Of my brothers amazing
Yellow car?
Dominic, yesterday, did not know.

Jesus?
Grace Jones?
Jesus Jones?
The devil?
Elvis?
Shakti?
Shiva? Or Shercules?
But whoever they were
They did not wait long enough.

Okay so it was a "yellow car",
But not like a New York taxi.
This was one of those cars
That take you to the never-ending
Paradise of women.
And we missed it.
Dom said
"Dam".

I hate being left behind. Or missing the party.
Especially when the ride goes straight to America
And Straight to your beds.

Bigotry is disgraceful,
And prejudice sickens me.
Whoever it was they were African
Or... maybe... Jamaican or from the Ivory Coast...
...whatever. They were black
And in a dream that means something.

In any case "the chauffeur always gets there first"
holds true here.

By the time I have a drivers license cars will fly.
And African drivers
Will "scoot"

Hybrid21

I had this dream on the 20th of August 2008 I thought I would write an automatic poem to illustrate the emotions it conjured. We were near a convent in Scotland, me and my brother Dominic. He is two years older than me, 39 now and we are both white but we have always had black friends and sometimes black girlfriends and we despise both racist behavior and ideology. Black is gorgeous. All races wish for their partners qualities in the same way that the Middle East secretly wants freedom...well who's to say what's best? I blame the borders of countries and the fictional divisions of religion, race and nationality.
In the dream we had to travel to a mysterious, amazing place. But the driver wouldn't let us into my brothers car.
The car was yellow and looked like a cross between a hotrod and a starship with ample space in the back. The driver was a strange guy in a dark suit, about 42, inches and years. He was smoking a joint, could have been a woman, it was dark. It might have been Grace Jones or it could have been Chuck Berry. He insulted us and then made off with the car, THE END.............hahaha!
I think it's a funny dream. A dream of mutual mistrust and equal misunderstandings. And more importantly missed opportunities. My brother is now married and living in Tokyo Japan. He is living his dream and I have always yearned for the US.
O and more importantly it's also about the number 42 "THE ANSWER TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING" according to Douglas Adams. When you think about it, all sixes and sevens, of course.
Feel free to comment on it. XOXO love and light whatever your creed or colour!

RACECAR IS RACECAR BACKWARDS!