Parked in front of the screen,
Watching a movie, unsure of what,
The picture doesn’t matter,
What matters is what’s in my lap…
A head with soft hair,
Moving in a sort of rhythm,
Sounds of slurping & sucking,
Not long before I am doing some bucking…
Windows covered in fog,
All of a sudden I tighten,
The head does not stop movement,
The deed done, the head asks for more,
The head, for the act, just so much a hog…
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Starman
I do remember when driveins had such memories to offer, now if there still standing they are usually flea markets too bad.
Budd