cars will one day reside in the museums of hate

I found this yesterday in a used book: In Watermelon Sugar by Richard Brautigan. With the help of a friend who has a gift for deciphering difficult to read handwriting, we were able to come up with this translation.

though our window
I see
one of the local toughs
walking gorilla like
down the street
he spits in the gutter

oh how I'd like to
kick his balls up in
though that snot filled snout

But I catch myself short
poets just don't go around
kicking people except with words