Chrome

Chrome

 

383 small block, double-hump heads,

fuel injection, supercharger

a midnight cruise

flaming hot licks on black lacquer paint

street lights blowing past

 

That’s chrome, baby.

That’s chrome.

 

Road signs, blue eyes, blonde hair,

cherry red lips framed in a billet mirror

long legs hang under

a plaid mini-skirt straddling

a 4-speed.

 

That’s chrome, baby.

That’s chrome.

 

Exhaust fumes, tire smoke,

high octane fuel, perfume

waters both mouth and eyes

Detroit steel never smelled this good

Red fingernails dig denim at 5500 rpm.

 

That’s chrome, baby.

That’s chrome.

 

Chrome bumpers, chrome grills,

chrome smiles, chrome thrills

That’s chrome, baby.

That’s chrome.