the 2014 ford shelby mustang GT500
Riding the Reptile
“The process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself,
& must be prolonged.”--Viktor Shklovsky.
Believe me, I am content to be your passionate paramour,
your ferocious lover,
your beautiful bitch, and yet
at the same time to be so ripped,
so musclebound, that I am also
your genuine BMF,
your road companion
your chick magnet, &
your for-real time machine.
Five decades ago, you rode my cousins,
drove my brothers,
dry-humped my Mama,
& fingered my Father, at a time when
your own sculpted muscles
needed no props or projections, & I forgive you
for bailing out on us when the herd
became weaklings, clowns,
& Indian paintbox chuckles.
Our love affair today,
after such a long separation
is hotter than ever
as now I am both your crotch rocket & friend,
fully accepting all the quirks
& perks about each other.
I have no trouble scoffing at the folks
who see me as only mindless muscle,
just a 21st Century robotic clone,
a growling, purring reminder
of those big block days when
pretty women would ask, “Why do you need to have all
that power?” then smile sweetly & ask,
“When can I have a ride?”
You definitely did your research, man,
& I can dig it, so glad
you understand & appreciate my attributes, &
at 50K-60K on my price tag, I am pleased
you can finally afford me. So
my 662 horsepower 5.8 liter V-8
rumbles exhaust notes to die for,
my six-speed manual transmission
with OD has a stiff clutch, but not too tough that your honey
can’t compress me, & hey,
my 15 mpg gas consumption
is modest yet serviceable--
my front seats mold to your butt
like mink-lined driving gloves,
my retro-dash keeps nostalgia stoked,
& when you punch it
my acceleration is all G-Force.
Yeah, we both know that like with any relationship,
there is an accommodation factor to consider;
my tiny back seat is ridiculous,
with room for an umbrella & briefcase.
I have no rear view camera,
no side curtain airbags,
no telescoping steering wheel,
no smooth ride, what with my solid axle
design & very stiff suspension, hopping a bit after a bump, &
my rear tires perhaps are not wide enough;
but hey, cops like to use us as
pursuit vehicles, I have lots of trunk space, & when
you slide into gravel my steering remains stable.
Sometimes I catch you staring at my
sexy rearing Cobra emblems, & you miss
the old silver galloping stallion, but
I want you to know, I am your pony & your rapid reptile.
Even though there are days
when your wife seems envious of our fellowship--
rest assured, Steve McQueen would understand.
He’s probably got three of us
in his celestial garage.
Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB
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