fast girls

her 78 trans am,
had red stripes,
a big bird painted
on the hood.
big tires.
dents and scrapes
along the side where
she'd clip
guard rails
and parking meters.
it was a fast car
for a fast girl.
a cigarette dangled from
her pouty lips, cherry red.
a can of beer nestled
between her daisy duke
legs.
zz top blasted on the stereo.
she scared you
that summer with her
driving
and foul language, but
she was fun
and frisky
and never missed a sunday
mass
no matter what happened
the night before.