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.