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i am a slow, city driver who does not parallel park.
she is a fast talker who needs a ride.

we have eight minutes to go to a place twelve minutes away.

she asks, “do you go on the interstate?”

my enlarged heart jumps behind my larynx,
and i whisper, “i guess we are now.”

i turn right and shoot forward
not knowing the limit
savoring the feeling of limitlessness.

i crouch in my seat looking in my blind spots
pushing 64 on 64.