I rode in your convertible with the top down at night. Music so loud I didn’t know music could get that loud in the open air. Music made up of female scratchy voices. Guitars being played so awkwardly it was painfully beautiful in a shy-don’t-notice-me kind of way I remembered from high school.
You spoke fast. You drove fast. Your tiny delicate parchment-paper-pale fingers danced along the leather steering wheel animating your words about planting flowers at a park, going dancing, moving with a group of 28 to Austin and did I want to join in? You were inviting me on our first nighttime car ride into such intimate permanent activities. I am just a curious passenger, wanting to fill in the holes of my imaginary crayola sketch of you, not expecting such a welcome, such energy like 18 packets of pop rocks in a puppy’s surprised mouth.
I watch your movement so natural with feminine fleshy parts easing out of your too-tight shirt and getting pushed out of equally small jeans. Bright fuchsia nail polish light your finger tips and toe nails like perfect stage lighting for your nightly performances.
You spoke fast. You drove fast. Your tiny delicate parchment-paper-pale fingers danced along the leather steering wheel animating your words about planting flowers at a park, going dancing, moving with a group of 28 to Austin and did I want to join in? You were inviting me on our first nighttime car ride into such intimate permanent activities. I am just a curious passenger, wanting to fill in the holes of my imaginary crayola sketch of you, not expecting such a welcome, such energy like 18 packets of pop rocks in a puppy’s surprised mouth.
I watch your movement so natural with feminine fleshy parts easing out of your too-tight shirt and getting pushed out of equally small jeans. Bright fuchsia nail polish light your finger tips and toe nails like perfect stage lighting for your nightly performances.
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