Don’t touch my car

You always told me not to touch your car. It was a big thing to you. Don’t touch my car, dude. And you’d always find the fingerprint or the licked finger letter I left for you and you would say don’t touch my car and I would and you would hit me. Don’t touch my car, dude. But now, now we’ve raced one of those ridiculous races, lights off on the clifftop road, and my car, touches yours and you’ve spun and hit the wall and somersaulted and hit a tree and another and now in the moonlight your car is on its side in the olive grove,gently hissing. I touched your car. Dude.