Wishes Of A Sitting Stool
Within a sun kissed horizon
He held a bold and prolific waist
To feel her back arch above the dashboard.
From his view,
Was covered in a hazy substance
But he figured he was dreaming.
The dashboard was far too useful
To be a figment of his dim imagination.
He thought about his brother.
What an absurd distraction on
This occasion of
Pulls and embraces
With so many paces
Of slowing then racing.
His brother would be good at this.
He was always an ace with women.
He had gifts of grace and satisfaction
With his knees in the sand.
Now while facing a dashboard
He loathed this car.
He hated the cracked leather seats
And squeaks of impressions.
He even hated how the windows
Fogged over from the younger ones
Who breathed to fast.
He wished he sleep in.