I express my love
and lust for the little black
Italian
sports car.
convertible no less.
new and shiny
like an ornament to hang
on my
bare tree.
but she says, don't do that,
it's a gay car, to
which I laugh
and say,
I don't care,
makes no difference
to me.
i then shake my head
and button up my purple
shirt
with long silky
sleeves.
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