The Heat, The Windscreen

Another summer day
Waiting in the car.
He’s taking his time up there,
With the cheap score.
And then they
Come out.

Flannel shirt.
Stained pink blouse.
Dirty jeans
Jeans dirtied.

She screams,
With slight nerves.
He uses an open palm.

Kneels down,
Twists straw follicles between
Black inked knuckles

Says
Don’t fuck with me,
I love you.

She sucks back
Red spit off the tongue
Says
You ruined my life,
I need you.

Then
You better
Get up.

Lock the door,
Look away.
Down at the shiny keys.
In the ignition.

She screams.
Again.

Look up.

They walk off,
Holding hands.

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