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.