Archetypes of Me.
Photo Courtesy of r16
Halted, I sit here in this lot.
Beneath these gray skies I am surrounded by similar models.
Though they are mere mockups,
Archetypes of me.
The evening raindrops still fresh on my body, your lips
As others have dried and left their marks upon my panels.
You blink through the rain, and then repeat.
I watch as you approach.
My engine becomes hot, as you run your fingers down my hood.
I expose my bumper, giving you a little front clip from my quarter panel.
My package is trim, as you sit upon my vinyl.
Quickly, I seal my door around you.
Auto lock engaged,
You curl your fingers slightly around my column.
Pressing my tuner,
As we search for musical compromise.
Then you start me.
Blowing every single fuse,
Breaking my grab handle,
Your prop shaft rotates faster,
Knocking my O-ring out of place, as my coolant leaks.
Hours later my equipment is still knocking,
As we now sit in this gravel.