fff, post-grims' b'day

so perhaps the weekend grims celebrated 30 wasn't the best one to try a stylistic exercise, knowing i'd be pressed for time. but this is how it came to me, so stylistic trial it is.
i recommend a deep breath before reading, and if it didn't work out, oh well. sorry.
here's my attempt @ this week's flash fiction friday, courtesy jj in purgatory.

Loping along through the moonlight...
the words come unbidden to my mind as i watch him roll by in the slo-mo replay in my head where he’s dressed a little snappier or cooler or smoother or whatever and i’m cuter sexier more laissez-faire mysterious and of course it’s romantically night time so we can be outlined in those skinny auras like we so perfect not real people at all like we are in the world outside my brain in the middle of the day hot sun blazing and me not wearing something i set out to ever be seen in because i just thought i was running to the grocery down the road to get that can of pigeon peas for mummy to make the pelau she promised me when i said i would come home for christmas and stay to help her
and as i bend down and pick up the can from the low shelf and stand back up and shift my ass cheeks in the hopes of dislodging that wedgie without having to do the obvious in the middle of the aisle he pass and catch me holding the peas and wearing the wedgie discomfort face that nobody but family supposed to see instead of the tiara he shoulda make sure was in place when he rounds that corner to finally discover me waiting knowingly

walk good.