The Backseat Driver

Location

Sarasota
United States

Here we are on an open road,

The trees are green and swaying. 

Here we are on an open road,

I thank the breeze for staying.

For my backseat driver keeps tapping me,

And putting out his input. 

My backseat driver keeps thumping me,

And putting out his input.

 

Here we are on an open road.

My backseat driver grasps me.

He pulls lightly on my neck,

And ensures I'm not okay.

Here we are on an open road,

Where I pull swiftly to the side.

Here we are on an open road,

And I kicked fear out of my ride. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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