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