For the Love of a Pontiac


You’re so pretty,

let’s thieve us a car, and go for a spin.

I’d love to get my hands on that body built for sin.

Babe, you must have been sired by the one we

call Satan,


What with those doe eyes, and mouth full of Hell.

Bum me a smoke, and please, pray tell

where you’re going, Lover


Boy, cos there’s a

Fire-bird, and our two names are written all over

that sweet



to drive

backward in time

enough to see the dawn of Cool.


Fuck me in the backseat on your birthday.


© Kindra M. Austin



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