Sunday, September 23, 2007

SR 159.

Cars, close and blurry, whizzed by the lovers standing at the roadside. The sun's last rays cast blushes on the pair as they leaned against the fender of his prize ride, enraptured, embracing. Her long hair lifted gently with the pine-scented wind, and he whispered her name between kisses- "LaDonna, LaDonna...." She smiled shyly, and, reaching into her acid-wash pockets, pulled out a pair of cigarrettes. Her hands crawled slowly upward, coyly brushing long, red nails against his wife-beater-covered belly and combing his sparse hairs over the yawning hairless gap of the top of his head. Finally placing and lighting the unfiltered right where he always set it, in the crevice between his spotted front teeth, she took a puff of her own and sighed a smokey haze. "Le's git, Bobby Joe. Price Iz Right oughtta be on by now."

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