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date night

we are cruisin’ fast
and your skirt is
ridin’ high against
your soft, American thighs

i ease back into
the red leather
passenger seat and
take a big hit,

you purse your lips
and straighten your
glasses; you’re runnin
late and you never
run late-

i glance at your feet
and smirk as your
red stiletto heels
dig into the floor
mat. toes locked
and loaded against
the klutch.

i hear you mumble, “fuck”
at a slow mass of cars;
you ram your heels against
the pedal, drop us into
third and scream past
on the shoulder. an old
redneck in a truck honks
as you flick your ashes
out the cracked window,

your glasses never stop starin’
in the rear view mirror.
the low ridin’ sun is glarin’
against a west side furor.

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11 thoughts on “date night

  1. a keeper of a ridin’ high song that hits all the green lights… a man in love with everything writes about the world in such a way as to bring a fast breeze to one’s face in fascinating fury… [ yeah, it means absolutely nothing but everything to one who knows ]

  2. hedgewitch says:

    So that’s who flew by me on the shoulder–I thought it looked like they were tripped out and having too much fun.

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