deepundergroundpoetry.com

Road head

 

My hand was hanging out the window
arm making a wavy motion,  
letting the current play with it
as if it were an aircraft wing
gaining speed,
preparing for
the thrust
needed
to take me off.
(out, away)

I was captivated
by the shoreline
whipping past, yet staying still,
as you hugged the
the curves of the road
at a breakneck speed,
and you asked
if I could

drive

I fought the wind
for control of my hair
and smiled,
as an answer,
that sloe-eyed smirk
that only a real bitch
can pull off with any
panache.
 
It got tense
when I leaned over
and steered,  
with the wheel
knocking the top of my
head

but we affirmed, that,
yes,
I can get us
where we
want to go

and I can drive a
stick like
a motherfucker
Written by Betty
Published
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