As she opens the door of the
luxurious limousine,
with quivering, slender,
inexperienced fingers,
she ever so briefly
hesitates.
But before logic can stop her,
she rashly swings open the door of
emotion, and dives in before
reason can stop her.
The car abruptly speeds off,
and her body falls backwards
onto the long bench seat
which is as bouncy as a mattress;
she looks down and is disturbed
to see that her new white dress is
soiled by oily french fries
that are sprawled everywhere;
alarmed, she jerks her body
spasmodically
and knocks over an unseen
plastic cola cup,
and its black liquid --
its pop and fizz long gone --
splashes onto her lily flesh.
The depraved driver leers at her
while whispering lewd words that
slither like a serpent
out of his mouth,
creeping and seeping into
her virgin ears,
maliciously coiling around her
brain, before steadily injecting
their poisonous venom
into her mind.
Depressed and disappointed,
she slowly, sluggishly
exits the vehicle,
feeling used,
like a throwaway,
like the limo’s black exhaust.