But Damn, those hot pants

greased up, the hottest day of the summer

I was thinking why was this longitudinally-mounted 3.0-litre engine kicking on me—-

When I saw you in those hot pants

And my engine light came on,

I saw your blue moon, I was hypnotized

Like how two of the Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupé were ever produced

And one has a red interior and

Mine is blue

Like you, you look blue

Blue like that one day I sat alone at that high school party waiting for my date to show up, and somehow I always knew she wasn’t going to show up

And so she never did

And I saw that papier-mâché decorated to look like a snowflake on the punch table, blue snowflakes for the winter formal

And I tore it into pieces,

And now you’re here, looking as rare as my car is, and those old tore up snowflakes,

And like me too,

And damn

I can’t fire off too soon, or else I’ll keep getting this kick back,

But you’re wearing those blue hot pants like they are in season

under this hot blistering summer sun,

Subdued, I feel sprinkled in a sort of rare form of blue divination

As you wink at me

And the car starts roaring thunder.