A poem a day for 2013 - day 298 - Life. Less. Toyota.

When I was fifteen I learned how to drive a stick shift /  because if I could drive a stick shift it meant I could really drive / everything else was just guiding / my mother said / guiding was like playing a video game / and driving was no game / so my mother taught me to drive / her stick shift / on a hill / steep / in traffic

Sometimes I have a story in my head about how my mother does not believe in me / sometimes I think I will always be her artist child / sensitive to the world / unaware of her power / and then I remember those days on the hill / with cars behind me / ready to go / I remember begging to be saved  / I will crash this car / I will destroy this world / I remember her voice / all Wonder Woman and Jesus
eyes straight ahead / you can do it / she said / one day you will be alone / and what will you do

There are days I feel at the top of the hill / with cars behind me / depending on my skill / and I take a breath / and remember the delicate balance between break and gas