How Do Mechs Love?

Baby, I’m already cool, I say as you eye my beige member’s only jacket. The look you give me like what is this still 1985? I smile coolly or coldly. I don’t have a track record for control and tell you that it’s always 1985, baby. Reagan, or Bush, what’s the fuckin’ difference? My shallow political commentary makes you laugh. I pop the collar on my jacket. I’ve always popped my collar, baby, because it’s what pimps do. “Now ever since I could remember I been poppin my collar/ Poppin poppin my collar, Poppin poppin my collar.” I slick my hair back to give it that Saturday Night Fever affect or is it effect? Grammer never was my strong point. “I’m not trying to promote your pussy.” You ask if I do anything but stand around in front of my Camaro, with the flame decals on the side and the condor splayed on the hood hoping soon to have you like an eagle on it, as a good looking pizano. I tell you my mom’s white and my pop’s Mexican, but I love eggplant calzones. 
You say I look like Mickey Rourke.
“I’m better lookin’ than those guys anyways?” 
What guys? 
All of them. 
I ask if you want to go to Chili’s and split two appetizers, two entrees and a white chocolate volcano cake with me. 
You laugh and ask if I’m serious. 
Serious as cancer, baby. 
Where else has great food, an amazing family atmosphere, and low low prices? 
TGIFridays. 
Touché

Baby, I done been cool. I keep this cigarette in my mouth cause it draws attention and makes me the center of attention. I ride on crowded public buses with no shirt and my chest marked up. I go to midnight movies in summer dressed in a leather jacket and black pants and spurs on my boots like some kind of urbane cowboy. I wear shirts with a derisive sense of irony. Fuck, I don’t even like The Sound of Music.

Baby, I invented cool. I argued against a universe with Earth at the center. I said that all species evolve out of the need for survival. I discovered how to harness electricity and spread it over the world and I didn’t need a key tied to a the string of a kite like some fat ass with shitty hair and an addiction to Parisian whores. I discovered gravity by having a pear fall on my face. I decided to cure erection problems before cancer and if you play your card right, you’ll find out why the former took precedence.