by Kelly Ann
I waken when I hear the soft music
of the key clicking in the car door lock;
I am startled by the heavy thud
that thunders into the plush driver’s seat.
You turn my direction, apply lipstick,
fix your hair, briefly admire yourself,
and then you quickly manipulate me
into an almost perfect position.
I allow you to see the speeding car
that flies by as you carefully back out.
Later, I tease you with insane drivers
that appear to be just inches away.
Every few minutes, I hear naughty words
slip out your mouth and bounce off the dashboard.
I don’t know why you always curse at me.
Oh wait, that’s right, you’re talking to traffic.
You know the driver spewing exhaust fumes
and tossing cigarettes out his window
will never hear you through bulky steel
and a loud heavy-metal radio.
You know the drunk who swerved into your side
doesn’t care he whacked your right mirror off.
You know muttering in commute traffic
is pointless, you’re asking for an ulcer.
Also, the turn signal is wearing out –
it does not want to be used all the time.
Why can’t you be like everybody else
and expect your intentions to be clear?
It’s not like you move blindly — I’m your guide —
just keep looking backward and take deep breaths.
Please remember that I will always be
adjustable and help you watch your back.