Trees whiz by,
Quicker and quicker,
The delicate formation of each branch
Scarcely visible,
Lost to this
Great,
Green,
Strip
Beside the highway.
Your pale fingers are wound,
With a danger that somehow satisfies my childlike mind,
Around
The
Steering wheel.
I am impatient,
Bored.
This trip is taking too long.
For although you have promised
Many
Pit-stops,
Trips to fast-food joints,
And bathroom breaks,
All I’ve seen for hours
Are quickly-passing trees
And a bright yellow sign that read
EXIT 14.
Should we have turned in?
Why do we just drive on like this
With no purpose,
No destination?
I crank the music up;
You turn it down again,
With a seething glance in my direction
That tells me all I need to know.
I place my mismatched–stockinged feet
On the dashboard
Carelessly,
Knocking down your precious bobble-head hula-girl
Accidentally tossing her to the floor.
You don’t pick her up
But your fingers clench tighter,
Your eyes narrow
And this automobile of ours
Speeds up more.
I bet your socks always match.
I’ll bet you have no dirty,
Scandalous,
Hypocritical thoughts,
Like the ones that so often settle themselves
In my mind.
You probably never forget to wash behind your ears,
Like our mother used to do for us
So many years ago
Sitting happily,
Side-by-side
In the warm tub water.
I want to remind you
That this vehicle is both of ours.
Do you remember
That I am old enough,
now,
to drive?
I’m sick of riding shotgun.
I want a turn at the wheel.
I want to spin this car around,
And drive right down
EXIT 14
Never to return
To this wretched highway.
For once,
I want to make my own tire-tracks
On this world,
To discover the wonders
Without your hula-girl grinning maniacally back at me.
Slide over here, wont you?
Careful.
Its time for you to live this life
Through my
Rearview
Mirror.