Susan's Trans Am

i was nervous

with her behind the wheel

of the car,

an engine that powerful,

more nervous than a cat

in a room

full of rocking chairs.

if she saw a red light up ahead,

she increased her

speed trying

to time the green.

she ate and drank when

she drove,

texted

and sang to songs

on the radio.

she did her make up in

the mirror.

the windows were always

down,

no mater the weather,

rain or snow,

or in the desert with

the wind blowing sand.

sometimes i'd crawl into

the back seat,

and curl up into a fetal

position, take out my rosary

beads and pray.

she laughed at me and made

clucking noises,

as i listened to the police

sirens on the way.