Satan's Cadillac

hell on wheels
whitewalls ringed in fire
burning rims melting to
alchemical perversions;
he's never satiated -
with drive,

a flaming libido
resides in my SUV
and what plays on the
CD hangs its rhinestones
on the rearview mirror; burning
love, burning paraphernalia is the
fragrance of gliteratti pot cut with
Elvis Presley's sweat, the perspiration
runs down my back like a perfected line
of a divining quartz crystal scoring my birthright
in flesh's prophecy,

it eats at me,
until I get enough;
when the dash gauge
needles out to the limit
warning orange,

I roll down
the tinted window,
satan, he's right beside
me, his cadillac daring me
to drag, race his ass to a
showdown,

and to think
I'm paying my
insurance premium
this month to have the
privilege to roll my wheels
as far as the road takes me;
yea, I think.

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist