Fear

The snake of my fear nearly leaves my belly through my mouth,

and I grip the sides of my seat

as if sheer will alone will keep me from ejecting willfully,

on purpose,

in order to clear out of this goddamned situation.

 

My face trembles with the force of my calm,

years of practice in customer service keeping me from

FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

 

The acid in my stomach perpetuates its fervid dance,

my thighs twitch to join,

and my right foot pushes so hard down,

SO HARD.

 

I don’t think I can stand it

I don’t think I can stand it

I don’t think I can stand it

And I have stood it

We made it home.

 

The Kid complains to everyone who will listen:

“She never lets me drive.”