Poetica 41

I was lonely at the pitstop till you rolled in.
Ignoring the checkered flag, you crashed into my toolbox.
As your radiator fumes filled my space, I wanted to fix you not your car.
The bodywork still pristine, it was clearly the engine that needed my check.
After spending much needed time under the hood.
My strong hands already had you in a purring mood.
As the urge to ride took over, you climbed up to the cockpit.
Asked for my hand onboard to help reach your blindspots.
You turned the key and we both felt the ignition inspiration.
I slammed your throttle and we were both off to the races.

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