We’ve stopped to park, and it’s no big surprise you’ve quickly scooted over to my side. What’s coming next is easy to surmise; your roaming fingers to my bra strap slide. I move your hands away. At age sixteen, it’s not my first time in a young man’s car. I understand what all the signals mean, but you must know this can’t go very far! Your kisses are not too bad, I admit, but lacking in finesse, too speedily, You try to take things farther. Then a fit you throw. Does this show me that you love me? Just take me home, for I’ve heard plenty of such tripe as “Trust me baby this is love.” July 12, 2017