Too Fast - Sara Hickman

He checks his wrist

And chuckles to himself, «Half-past a freckle»

She meets him in line, just in time

For the half-past a freckle show

Lips press her flesh

With a wet sticky kiss

The smell on his breath

Makes her turn her face

As she starts to get a little sick

He hails a cab

She gasps for breath during the drive

She dives into his pants

And he looks as if he’s shocked

As if she should have knocked

He says, «You're too fast for me

You’re too, too fast for me

You’re too, too fast for me»

She says, «Maybe you’re too slow»

Back at the motel

He mentions his job is going well

She unbraids her hair

And for the ten-thousandth time

Asks him again

«What is it you do there?»

He says, «I work at the Popsicle plant

I pour the dye in the number five machine

I am responsible for turning Popsicles green»

«But you’re too fast for me

You’re too, too fast for me

You’re too, too fast for me»

She says, «Maybe you’re too slow»

She, she shimmies 'round the room

Ha-ha-has while he explains

She caresses a lamp

Just to see his face full of longing and pain

He says, «Let's do it on the floor»

She says, «Tickle me instead»

Well, he rolls his eyes so she slaps his thigh

He says, «What did you do that for?»

She says, «You're too fast for me!

You’re too, too fast for me

You’re too, too fast for me»

He says, «Maybe you’re too slow»

You’re too, too, too fast for me

Oh, you’re too, too, too fast for me

You’re too, too, too fast for me

She says, «Maybe you’re too»

He says, «Maybe you’re too»

She says, «Maybe you’re too slow»