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Test Drive

By Wil C. Fry, Sept. 12, 2001, 12:50

Copyright © 2001 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


Walking by the car lot
He stops in his tracks
Appreciating her form from afar
The wide-track tires
And sleek, rounded fenders
He admires the aerodynamic
    slope of the hood,
    and imagines what is
        underneath

He quickly thinks of his bank account
And battles with his desires
He considers what his friends will think
When they see him driving her
How their jealous stares will linger
Contemplates the pleasure of
Driving her
And decides he must have her

A quick word with the dealer
To let him know he is interested
Without coming on too strong
Then he asks for a test drive

Sitting down in the driver’s seat
He mutters a word of greeting
His eyes aglow with delight
A turn of the key breaks the ice
And the engine begins to rumble
He can smell the sweet tang of
    the leather seats
And is intoxicated with her power
He is hooked
He leaves the dealership
With a promise that he’ll return
Walking down the street
He stops in his tracks
Appreciating her form from afar
Her graceful legs
And sleek, rounded hips
He admires the aerodynamic
    curve of her blouse,
    and imagines what is
        underneath

He quickly thinks of his wounded heart
And battles with his desires
He considers what his friends will think
When they see him dating her
How their jealous stares will linger
Contemplates the pleasure of
Loving her
And decides he must have her

A quick word with the woman
To let her know he is interested
Without coming on too strong
Then he asks her out for coffee

Sitting down in the café booth
He mutters a word of greeting
His eyes aglow with delight
A quick joke breaks the ice
And the date is underway
He can smell the sweet aroma
    of her perfume
And is intoxicated with her beauty
He is hooked
He leaves the date
With a promise that he’ll call her



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