This one based on conversations


Love is the fastest car, in which I ride,
your passenger. Your hands are on the wheel.
Gear shifting. And the pressure that I feel
pushes me backwards. On the left hand side

you signal, and then turn. We pick up speed
exhilarating and the hip-hop beat
blares from your speakers. Lever pulls my seat
back and I stretch and yawn. No more we need

than this. 365 horsepower,rear wheel drive,
traction control off, open window air
buffets my face, plays havoc with your hair.
Not quite like sex, yet near it, we contrive

auto-eroticism. Click my belt
around me. Will controlling what I’ve felt.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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One Response to This one based on conversations

  1. ffutures says:

    Now, if Top Gear ever ran a poetry competition…

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