we’re sitting in the car

her ac is out

another couple hundred down the drain, only for it to break a few weeks later

sweat was dripping down my back when i asked

“what if i fail?”

she tells me that i won’t 

she’s confident

she says it like she’s God

like she’s seen my future and it’s bright

i close my eyes 

blocking out her sweltering sun

“but what if?”

she just repeats herself

a broken record, i can practically hear the needle stutter over her vinyl 

her eyes are focused on the road, on every passing car

she has never been in my shoes

she has never known the fear of a test

how my hands tremble as i pick up that stiff pencil 

she has never known my fear of disappointment 

of seeing it dawn on my family that i am simply

average

not exceptional

only average

she has never been in my shoes

we wear the same size

she knows where i’m coming from

she just can’t cross that shimmering, fiery threshold 

she is content in her small town life

i was raised to believe i should never be satisfied 

we are both dreading the day i leave

we might as well drink poison together

it’s an easier pill to swallow

than the destructive nature of growing old.