Exhibitionist Compersion

Exhibitionist Compersion

On a dinner date,
She says
She wants
To drive.

Swift gears
And she's definitely
Going somewhere.

Her pedal work
Pushes the pace,
And
At some point,

She slides her hand
Down to her purse
Where she retrieves
A something.

Eyes straight ahead,
That something
Finds its way
Into the fastlane,

As she toggles
The turn signal
Indicators
From side
To side.

Her sighs
Fog up
The rearview
Mirror.

And her syncopation
Rallies her breathing
Into an all out
Road race.

She crosses
The finishline
As we enter
The parking lot.

And she hands
Me the keys,
Because she's
Going to need
A drink

And shouldn't be
Driving the rest
Of the night.

White table clothes
Can barely
Contain her.

She begs
To take
The scenic route
Home.

And I don't care
If we ever
Get there.