Back Seat

Take the back seat

My legs are too long, I’m smashed in, can’t keep my knees straight, everything feels wrong.

Makes me car sick, makes my mind tick, anxiety turns my mouth into a dry wick.

Feel the hair on my neck stand, backseat driver up to my neck in worried quicksand.

Look out the window, fresh air lets the breeze blow

Forces the leaves to turn, we start talking about it because we know

The rain is coming, starts hitting the windshield like nothing

Crunched into the back seat with my fists numbing

Turn the wipers on, soon we'll all be gone

Our destination determines the back seat won’t last too long

Slammed on the breaks in a full stop, throwing me forward, bit my lip, slightly swollen, it feels hot. Broke my skin, I taste the blood, just a small drop.

Open the door and let my body stretch, the driver doesn’t even look at me, stares down into his phone locked in melancholy and a paused itch.

Throw my jacket over my head and listen to the rain’s sound. I'm fine with finishing this journey walking on my own ground.

Remember that Night

We were at a show, it was summer sticky, the air was thick with patchouli & peace tea.

The band was moving bodies, limbs were flexing & flowing in rhythmic contortions under the spell of their set.

Mounds of flesh blending, cooling themselves with condensation dripping with cold alcoholic wet.

We were laughing at the stage diver because this wasn't that kind of show, he seemed so foreign, almost funny that he wasn't 'in the know'.

On his last failed attempt at crashing they pulled him up by the pits of his long shirtless arms.  

He thought he had command of them, doing his bidding, but for them, he held no charm.

They were pulling leaves from the palms around them, fronds peeled into strips it was strange, the audience perplexed by their actions, and then it happened jaws dropping center stage.

The musicians leaned into him, saying something inaudible, but his actions made it clear, he went pale, very sudden, the leaves were his humiliation meal.

Picking them up he started eating, looking like a conquered bully deposed by the underdog champion wearing a freshly plucked crown.

The band pulled him behind the curtains and made a gesture to us all -- middle fingers raised to heaven and a quick kiss that absolved.

The music never stopped & I wondered if he vomited from the shame or eating what one aught, had he learned anything, had anything been taught?

A frame by frame replay loops in the swelter of that day, and while the band name escapes me, the memory stole some innocence, something changed in me that day.

Not your mother

I'm different, different how? 

Different the way your eyes look around. 

I'm not your mother. 

Don't tell me I remind you of her. 

Acrobat

Go ahead, think you're the shit, think you're the tits, your mind is doing splits. Does your head hurt? Are you calling it quits?

You're no acrobat, your skills are lousy at that. I'd help you up if you'd only accept it, instead of holding it against me like a blade to my neck.  

Stop and see, but you won't, your show-stopping blindfolded trick prevents it. There's no common sense, and it's affecting your balance. 

Your fingernails pulled away from their beds during your last act, crumpled in a swan dive to the floor. 

Shredded, your clumsy get-up prevented the heights that you sought to soar. Worn out, faded pout, black smoke, you've finally burned out. 

No more effort to be wasted, since the high wire betrayed you.  It snapped back with precision, now your show will never sell out.