She Loves Nascar
SHE LOVES NASCAR
She loves NASCAR.
I prefer Gaugin or Renoir
but she loves NASCAR.
It's a southern fascination
as Dixie as Faulkner
or sweet potato pie.
I love NASCAR,
She squeals like tires burning,
out of breath.
The only thing that moves
like lightening in the south,
NASCAR.
Guys driving fast
making left hand turns.
I prefer the curves
in a Rodin,
the speed of a swallow’s flight.
She loves NASCAR.
Her eyes smoke
smiling like a checkered flag,
with spark plug laughter.
When the twisted wrecks
have been cleared.
the vroom of the engines still.
In bed,
In my arms she idles.
Her hair smelling of excitement
and exhaust.
I love NASCAR
Her engine revs
I whisper, we have
nothing in common.
Don't be silly
we both love Nascar.
She reaches for me
under the sheets.
GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES!
She draws me inside,
A pitstop. I'm her one man pit crew
We both love NASCAR she sputters.
Yes but, not
for the same reason.
My key in her ignition.
My pistons pounding.
My gears shifting
My heart racing .
Yes, oh yes I love Nascar.
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