Writing | Las Vegas Stroke Story by Danielle Willis

Las Vegas is melting
into a neon heat mirage
and I am leaning over
giving my lover a
blowjob on the interstate
with the radio playing
Bob Willis and his Texas Playboys
and the sun
cooking the seats to
hot plastic through
the dusty windows
her cock
tastes vaguely
of butter and I
shut my eyes and
listen to a
line of trucks
rattle past
I've got my
right hand
down my pants and
my left hand
clutching her thigh
and the world
has been reduced
to the
smell of naugahyde
and the
bristle of pubic hair.

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