GT Beretta (The Erotic Re-mix)

(Listening to Human League I'm Only Human)    
   
The open black and blue flannel shirt wearing shoulders    
Were cutting me a loose in the wind to something Pantera    
Blasting; GT Beretta had a lead foot on the look out    
For the asinine Passat drivers on the road-    
Handling it; skinny jeans holding that blunt in for me    
(We didn’t smoke, so she did for the both of us:    
Breaking me into the aroma of the real deal)    
Whipping it out on preppy with pegged jean legs    
Hemmed to the cuff line of pseudo lesbianism;    
As the butch of us-which is usually how it went because    
(             Stays in house between women of color; mostly                  )    
Flooding each other with notes between classes; the    
Sharpest, stylized burn out I’d ever seen:    
{Bitch was swag before that term ever was}    
A childhood scar on her middle upper lip,    
Flippant attitude and uh taller than me    
Meanwhile, black student union    
(E. Washington)    
Was castrating me for riding that    
(The movement went to the guidance counselor’s office    
About the shit; conclusion; sit at this lunch table on these days    
And that lunch table on those days/ I still couldn’t bring myself    
To tell her though; (she confided more) what “we” were going through;    
Emotionally- embarrassment for one: chance encounter had    
One incident already which was enough: her steady and I were    
Cat and mouse-ing each other, when she approached me about it    
And we found ourselves backing up to take a second look    
(Again, this was situational- that’s the kinda bitch I was)    
That mf pomposity was outraged probably about    
Something completely out of scope exposing his mind    
With “you don’t owe her shit, you ain’t gotta do that;    
You’re going to her fucking house taking her to school    
In the morning?” I’m sure he threw in other adjectives    
(Jockey actually had something to say, bravo)    
Like some prehistoric has been quarter back ill-fated to become    
An embittered reactionary employed by the suburban police dept    
As the only option left to redeem some masculinity; any who/    
She relayed it to me, as “I wanna” so, ok- we popped a $10 for gas+ lunch    
In her shirt pocket on the days she uhm “actually let me hit it” (financially)  
{My Mother liked her} Consequently, critical made me wonder    
How them two even hooked up; no stranger than some of the    
Formal pairings you see nowadays.