Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 71.0: September 7th, 2009

Rude Motor
by Belinda Roddie

Christine, caress these weary fingers stained with oil

Callused from toiling over your vintage framework

I want to see your hubcaps spinning, chrome and silver

Your tires tearing up fresh asphalt as my vision turns

Into one big, crimson blur behind your heavy shield

It’s just you and me, and your rude motor

Christine, let me breathe in your sweet perfume

It constricts me and gently submits me to the confines of your wheel

I love to see your bright eyes glowing, glaring

At the passerby who stop to stare at the awkward pair,

The silhouette against your amber gaze

It’s just you and me, and your rude motor

Christine, couldn’t you have been a pretty girl instead?

A golden-eyed girl, with red hair and red lips

So you could hold me without anybody looking?

You leave scars when you bite down on me

And when you kiss me, you kiss too hard

And when you groan, you rattle my teeth and shake my bones

But come evening, I’ll be weaving through these wary streets

Scattering the autumn leaves of reds and browns, reds and browns,

Just you and me, and your rude motor

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since September 7th, 2009.