Sidecars are for bitches
(or is it the other way around?)
Slung-on side-saddle, ride the double-yellow
Low-down zoom around town Up alleys and
Down, whipping through street
Signs and lights, every last one
Wet warm wind in hair
Always long, always black as an oil slick.
Shining teeth, lips.
My girl has warm beige lips.
No glittering ruby. No sidecars.
A practical sedan, used, decent mileage,
Reliable in every weather.
It will accommodate a car seat, someday
I rev, readied Still
She beats me
Off the line without lifting a finger.
I can hear her laugh and fade
Even with the windows up.