Joyride

I like to drive my car fast
& without the L plates. 

I like to speed up on the Pacific Coast Highway 
and floor it // barefoot on the accelerator
watching the numbers on my dashboard 
fly into the blue 

my toes crooning in tune 
to Janet Jackson as she belts
That’s The Way Love Goes
to the entire sky 
out of an oldschool UE Boom

with the windows halfway down 
& my gas tank never more than halfway full
 
There is sand in every 
crevice of my vehicle from the beach that I 
brought home & forgot to shake out

of the car I bought 4Sale 
on a grassy knoll on the side of the road 
which I have to pay for – again and again – 
but who cares 

tbh. I’ve never had the license
to drive away before, from the hit
of adrenaline
& the clench of the fridge 
as everything around me 
turns sour and stale 
like the expired cycle of a domestic argument. 

                   & I purposefully don’t have a dad anymore
                          who could have taught me about mechanics.

Now I drive whenever I like. Whatever roads. 
At whichever speed. 
& take myself away from chaos if it beckons. I bend
past corners to trace the exhaling curve
of the tide up the hill
                                 to see the pleasure of the shoreline. 
                                                                        Just for me. 

I nearly die a few times learning the ropes
but still I live to tell the tale.

I will be gay and get my restricted 
I write down seven times as an affirmation
and post it up on my walls until it becomes true.  

Then it really does happen. And I am real. It’s true.
            & the sun rays are a cloak of light on my shoulders.
The breeze is an open door,
whipping my hair to its highest volume. 
                                    Sea gulls applaud. 

I manifest a hot girl next to me riding shotgun. 
One hand of mine free to caress the steering wheel 
& the other occupied by circling roses on her thigh.  

Just like a contemporary horseback rodeo.
Above the law but not above the landmarks 
we pass through. & the wind whistles in tune to the hum 
& rev of these engines. 


That’s how it feels to be free. & be me
& in love w/ the world I see. 
In the driver's seat 
of my scratched up, second hand
Toyota Corolla 2003.