the ejection seat

i like to be spoiled
the queen bee tells me as
she brushes her
hair in the rear view mirror
turned by her hand
to accommodate the location
her face.
do you mind, i tell her.
i'm driving and really need
that mirror.
i think i have spinach
in my teeth she says. look.
do you see any. no.
i tell her, pushing the mirror
back into place.
where was i, she says.
oh yes. i like to be spoiled,
i like nice things, i like to
travel and stay in resorts.
are you able to do
these things with me?
i hope so, she says, smiling,
rummaging through her tiny
purse to find lipstick.
at this point i wish i had
a james bond car, the kind
with an ejection button
for the passenger seat,
but i don't. so i say yes.
who doesn't love caviar
and palm springs, paris,
i say. the baguettes are
wonderful over there. i'd die
just to sit in a café
right now and order sparkling
water.
i'm falling for you, she says.
let's go. let's go to paris,
just me and you. tonight.
it would be fun and spontaneous.
what about my cat? i tell
her. i'd have to make
arrangements for my cat.
how about next weekend?