We’ve just left
Your best friend’s house
And so far
It’s been a pretty good day.
“Hey, I think your buddy
Has the hots for me,” I joke.
Out of the corner of my eye
I see you pop open
The glove compartment
And fool around inside
Coming up with a surprise:
A stainless-steel can opener.
You aim for my eyes
And I grab your wrist
Just in time
But I can’t disarm you
With only one hand
And I need the other to steer.
We’re skidding
On loose gravel
As I pump the brakes
Trying to slow us down
Until we finally come
To a complete stop.
“You really are clueless,
Ronnie,” you say, sliding
Back onto your side of the seat.
“Go ahead, fuck anyone you want,
I don’t care – sex with you
Totally sucks anyway!”
Poetry
i can almost feel the point of that can opener entering my skin – ron, i may have experienced something so similar that it is creepy. i hope it is not the same woman…
don’t think so, cuz it happened in penna, oh wait, yr from pa too! — agh, just joking — anyway, wish i could get the last stanza right — to be honest we were both so shook up i think we just sat there in silence for a long while — the road this happened on was a meandering backroad that followed a fast-flowing river — still can’t believe we didn’t spin out and slide down into the water — good times!
Um, er…what was a can opener doing in yr glove compartment?
Good points
Nice and thanks!