Driving
I am driving through Connecticut
with my lover on the passenger side.
On the radio comes a familiar song.
I think, but do not say out loud
that it's a song I like to touch myself to -
That its sound excites me, gets inside me
the way another body should.
I remember days alone in the house,
turning on this jangle of bells and drums
and slipping under my covers,
listening for signs of my mother
coming home, the door opening,
footsteps clacking in the foyer.
I listen.
No, I will not tell him.
I open my mouth to sing along
with the vocals while our fast little car
continues to fly along the road.
October, 2002
September, 2002
August, 2002
July, 2002
June, 2002
May, 2002
April, 2002
March, 2002
February, 2002
January, 2002
Can you write better?
Submit your poem to Zeek by clicking here.
film politics music jay's head poetry art josh ring fysche saddies about archive