Zack's gaze drops to the poem Anna is pointing at, his brow furrowing slightly as he reads the title. He leans closer, getting a better look at the poem, his initial skepticism giving way to curiosity. The title itself seems simpler than some of the other abstract options they have been looking at. "Coloured," he repeats thoughtfully. "Maybe this won't be so bad." His fingers trace the short lines of the poem on the page. The poem appears to explore the relationship between being lively and spirited and age. "So, you want me to analyze this one for you," he asks and looks up at her brown eyes. Anna nods, "But first, you have to find your love poem and analyze it, then copy over the analysis of your hate poem from last year's notes."
Zack nods, accepting Anna's logical plan with a smirk. "Alright, boss. I will get my love poem figured out first, then copy over the shitty 'Caged' analysis." He pulls out his phone again, already typing search terms like 'best moder love poems' and 'non-sappy poetry for guys'. His brow furrows in concentration as he scrolls through the results, dismissing titles that sound to sentimental or cliché. "Fucking hell, everything is either about hearts or roses," he mutters under his breath, scrolling past poems with titles like 'Your Eyes are Stars' and 'I Love You More Than Words Can Say'. His taste runs more towards raw emotion and gritty imagery than romantic platitudes. Meanwhile, Anna continues flipping through her Poetry Anthology, occasionally glancing over at Zack's frustrated expressions as he searches online. Then he found a poem called 'She Drives Like a Dream' by MM de Wet.
'She Drives Like a Dream'
By MM de Wet
At dusk, she arrives
With a low, steady rumble
Not too loud
But impossible to ignore
Shaped by patience and purpose
Silhouette with curves drawn
As the road bends–
Natural, without apology
There she stands
In the gleaming sun
Polished but not delicate
Like chrome catching the last light of day
There is strength beneath the surface
A quiet engine of will and history
Built for power, not speed
Stories are carried within her frame,
Roads traveled, storms weathered
She is made to go the distance
Zack's green eyes widen slightly as he reads the title of MM de Wet's poem, a slow grin spreading across his face. 'She Drives Like a Dream'? Now that is a fucking poem her can get behind. "Holy shit, Anna, look at this," he says, turning his phone screen toward her so she can see the title clearly. "Finally, some poetry that actually understands what matters in life." He scrolls through the poem quickly, his expression lightening up with genuine excitement for the first time since they started this assignment. The verses compare women to various aspects of a vehicle– fast, powerful, reliable– using automotive metaphors to describe their personality and strengths. "This is perfect," he declares with satisfaction. "It is not sappy or flowery; it is real. It gets that cars aren't just machines, they are extensions of who you are." He picks up his pencil and jots down notes in his notebook about the poem's structure and imagery.
Anna smiles softly at Zack's excitement, which is palpable as he continues reading the poem. "Listen to this," he says pointing at a particular stanza. "She compares a woman to a classic muscle car- 'built for power, not speed.' That is fucking brilliant." His enthusiasm is infectious, drawing the attention of a few nearby students who glace over with curiosity. Zack ignored them completely, too focused on the poem that finally feels like it was written for him. "I can't believe I found something I actually like," he admits with a laugh, running a hand through his bleached blond hair. "Maybe this poetry assignment won't be total shit after all." He continues analyzing the pome with newfound energy, jotting down notes. "Do my qualities compare to an awesome car?" Anna asks softly, her brown eyes still on the poetry anthology in front of her on the desk.
Zack's hands pause mid-note, his focus shifting entirely to Anna at her soft-spoked question. The vulnerability in her tone catches him off guard, making his heart beat a little faster. He sets his phone down and turns fully toward her, his expression serious. "Compare to an awesome car?" he repeats quietly, his voice losing its earlier boisterous energy. "Hell yes, Anna. You are the best fucking car I have ever seen." His green eyes scan her features– the way her brown hair falls across her face as she reads, the gentle curve of her lips when she smiles softly like this. The metaphor feels natural to him, effortless. "You are built for reliability," he continues, leaning closer so only she can hear him over the classroom chatter. "Like one of those classic American sedans– solid frame, engine that never gives out." His voice is laced with genuine admiration, dropping to an almost intimate whisper.
"But you are also built for speed when you need to be– remember that time you ran across the school to catch the bus and beat me by five seconds?" A small smile plays on his lips at the memory, his thumb tracing an imaginary line along the desk between them. "And you have got that power under the hood too. The way you handle yourself when people try to mess with you…" his gaze holds hers steadily as she looks up at him, the usual teasing glint in his green eyes replaced by something more sincere. "You are not just some pretty car sitting in the garage looking good. You are the one I would trust to drive us through a storm without even thinking about it." The bell rings overhead signaling the end of first period, but neither of them moves to pack up their books. The moment feels too important to interrupt with the mundane routine of changing classes. "Yeah? And let me guess, if you could, you would ride me all night long," Anna said seductively. Zack's breath hitches at her directness, the seductive edge in her voice sending a jolt of electricity through his system. His pupils dilate as he processes the visual, she has just painted– him driving her somewhere dangerous and intense, pushing boundaries until dawn breaks.