Daytona Daydream
Posted: July 25th, 2008, 11:34 am
Top down,
burnt orange hair,
waves to me in high speed drama
like a sexy new american flag
with tattoos for stars
that shimmer in miles per hour,
'64 coupe de ville,
candy apple red to match the fire
in your flaming locks flying by me,
you twirling a strand of curly excitement
with your right hand while your left hand
vivaciously pounds the vintage dashboard,
meaning, your driving with your knees,
and that turns me on, 'cause nervous energy
is always suppressed sexual tension to me,
so I tromp on the gas to get a longer look
from those emerald beams that pose as eyes.
As I approach, I see you glancing in your
rear view mirror to make sure, but know full well
that the needle on your Hot-o-meter is about
to bust the glass, your translucent beads refract
a torrid rainbow swinging to and fro in two-lane air.
You bop, up, down, throwing your head side to side
as Steppenwolf howls from the stereo radio
inciting fever from primal responses, and my private
fantasy begins as I am navigating the exquisite curves
of your snake like body with great attention to detail,
like my neighbor who takes all day to wash and wax
his pick-up truck, on his hands and knees removing
unwanted debris from the tire treads with a toothbrush,
THAT kind of detail, and oooohhhh what a journey it is,
endless euphoria around each bend, the climax
secondary to the exploration, and then we.........
BEEEEEEEEP, BEEEEEEEEP, "Move it Asshole!"
Oh shit,
the light is green,
where did she go?
burnt orange hair,
waves to me in high speed drama
like a sexy new american flag
with tattoos for stars
that shimmer in miles per hour,
'64 coupe de ville,
candy apple red to match the fire
in your flaming locks flying by me,
you twirling a strand of curly excitement
with your right hand while your left hand
vivaciously pounds the vintage dashboard,
meaning, your driving with your knees,
and that turns me on, 'cause nervous energy
is always suppressed sexual tension to me,
so I tromp on the gas to get a longer look
from those emerald beams that pose as eyes.
As I approach, I see you glancing in your
rear view mirror to make sure, but know full well
that the needle on your Hot-o-meter is about
to bust the glass, your translucent beads refract
a torrid rainbow swinging to and fro in two-lane air.
You bop, up, down, throwing your head side to side
as Steppenwolf howls from the stereo radio
inciting fever from primal responses, and my private
fantasy begins as I am navigating the exquisite curves
of your snake like body with great attention to detail,
like my neighbor who takes all day to wash and wax
his pick-up truck, on his hands and knees removing
unwanted debris from the tire treads with a toothbrush,
THAT kind of detail, and oooohhhh what a journey it is,
endless euphoria around each bend, the climax
secondary to the exploration, and then we.........
BEEEEEEEEP, BEEEEEEEEP, "Move it Asshole!"
Oh shit,
the light is green,
where did she go?
