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He bluffed, “It’s the cheapest you’ll find a vintage sports car.”
She huffed, “It looks rather new for a vintage sports car.”
Love for the ages: soft, steady, slow, and sweet, or a
flame: fast, beautiful, and deadly, like a vintage sports car.
Pulling off her shirt she felt revealed, reviled, repulsive,
telling herself it’s not trashy if you do it in a vintage sports car.
Cherry red, blood red, red wood. Scattered under moonlight.
On the accident report they called it a vintage sports car.
Heaven forbid honesty! Hide your feelings, your secrets,
undercover. Like in the driveway, a vintage sports car.
Status symbols: a Rolex watch, a million bucks, a
yacht in the bay. Trade your wife for a vintage sports car.
The past thrown away, left to rot and not be remembered.
Left to decompose in a junkyard next to a vintage sports car.
Lost, lonely, loveless? Ditch the club, forget online dating.
One thing that can never leave you: A vintage sports car.
To escape your problems you must run far away.
My suggestion? Zero to sixty in a vintage sports car.
A gold-digging robbery! Get away with his money, his heart,
a license plate reading RAY-RAY on a vintage sports car.