He drives like a maniac.

- Sorry. Like a Californian.

No. Like a racer. Or better yet

like how he fucks:

aggressive, attentive,

surprising, and yet smooth.

I find I've missed this,

youth, excitement,

the feeling of my hair tangling in the wind

as we speed along the highway.

It's the day after we met

only twelve hours since we parted

Midnight has turned to noon

and now that I've verified

that he's probably not a serial killer

I let him pick me up from my place

so we can head out for the afternoon.

He likes heavy metal.

- That's another bit of nostalgia

taking me back to simpler times

and simpler boys.

He reminds me of them:

tan, sunglasses, slippers.

Sorry. "Flip flops."

We squeeze into a spot

on a narrow downtown street

He presses me up against the side of his car

and oh, yes, I have missed this.

It's the day after we met

and I barely know him

but for some reason I can feel

something inside of me coming back to life

though maybe that's just

the afterthought of him, inside me

I can already tell this won't last

but it sure as hell will be fun