Saturday, March 29, 2014

Gotta Love Them Pretty Boys and Muscle Cars

The second time I fell in love was with a boy who had wild jet-black hair and wore eyeliner and fingerless gloves and all the kids in school called him a fag and we would fuck in the backseat of his ’72 Chevelle SS parked in empty desert lots on the outskirts of town with the twinkling of the distant city lights mingling with the stars and everything was just sparkling diamonds on black velvet amongst the smell of spit and sweat and the residual heat of the sun soaked into the earth and into the damp leather benchseat.        

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