"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."
Hunter S. Thompson

Steve "Funkbullet" Brown


She playfully fingered the radio station
and found her favorite song
while the rain fought the wipers

and tossed wet bullets to the left

and right of the windshield

as little damp circular footprints

tapped in seductive rhythm

to the snare from the speakers

driving her snake like movements

on soul

she already had her leg locked

in on me
slender thigh
ankle brought to my eye and down

pressing on me

pressing on the pedal


splitting lanes

cutting rain

with radial swerve

and sway

She caught my eyes

closed at the wheel

with her feel

but she didn't stop

she played

hiking skirts

strawberry scents

slipped silk and lace

by ankles way

twirled on one finger

and sent to me with a wink

The glowing green

dash lights fade

to grey upon her dark skin

It was right then that

i thanked "GOD"

for bench seats and back alleys


the recently pushed cigarette
lighter was twirling between

two slender fingers
red nail tips set against

the orange glow pug

of the plug

she waved the igniter

and traced the soft features
of her breast

placed it just inches from

my face and blew it's heat

upon my skin

she pulled close

dropped her legs tight

around me and whispered
not so sweet nothings

upon my ear and sealed

her intentions with a tongue flick

kiss on my neck

i ran 2 red lights,

one stop sign,

almost flat jacked a jaywalker

just to get there
just to get to her getting to me

the windows now obscured

with steam and sweat

hand swept across the shield

again and again

to catch the yellow divider,

a curb, an outlet

a hiding place

hot breath

heavy heart beats mixed

with bitter biting of my skin
she was straddled and atop

back bend

exposed neck with head spin

i hit 1st, 2nd, and 3rd

67 mph on this straight away

back alley passion tour
i hit neutral on the column

as we both hit overdrive

pedal held tight against the floor

engine roaring full bore

as we rolled loud

past the steel gated

picture window padlocked

pawnshop with the flickering

neon sign flashing "Closed"

i noticed the red light filtered

through rain and glass

upon her skin

Rubby nipple play

on dark canvas

hip sway

rocked ways enough

to smiles and shutters
to rolling stop

and fall heavy as breath

smothered the sound of the

engine scream

right foot still sank deep

upon the floor

The Ford sat still and rumbled

echoes startled streets and rattled

windows and sleep

lights flicked on like dominos

falling on the adjacent buildings

sleepy eyes broke sashes

to catch a glimpse of the falling rain

skipping past street lamps

settling on the 4 door, V8 pearl white

67 Ford at rest in the intersection

windows rolled down

steam rolling off the glass and headlights

as sweet soul sounds settled down

right foot lifted

3 on the tree shifted

and placed on "D"


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