Black Truck Dark Paige Engle
He was wonderfully wild in the worst way. Tall, handsome, and black truck dark. The kind that shimmers in summer shine. He was tail-gate torture on the nights we spent stargazing in a short bed Chevy, a six-speed Silverado that sped my heart on back roads And spun out my common sense in dusty daydreams. He dreamed so tall that I could hardly reach, reach, reach up on the tips of my toes To kiss his lips, lips, lips that said we’d buy the beach and raise balmy, briny babies that were born of summer. He left me asking my answers, until I opened my closed and challenged the proven path, that was plenty traveled and plenty used. He made me want more, And he lifted me up, Up, Up high over his head Spinning me into the reckless that I always ran from and into the risky that sweet talked my safety. With a backwards hat, And his backwards laugh, He was everything dangerous to me. 21
