Metro Ride: Detroit Style

When I stepped his sedan, I was sedated by the sight of my driver's hair. I asked, you got Jherri?  "As in curl, he replied. It's called Shirley now."  Then asked, "would you like to run your hands through it?"  It felt slippery, smooth.

We stopped for smokes. I knew he wanted sugar. I got him three-chocolate-mint-covered candies, the box said they were cherry filled;  everybody knows peppermint patties don't have cherries.

When I jumped back into the black sedan and handed the driver the candies, he smirked and said, "don't go working for the psychic network, you shoulda got me a Snickers."

I snickered.

made-in-detroit