Our Car Rides

I sat silently,

both feet on the dash, 

The windows let in a 

hard breeze

and it tickled the tips

of my outstretched fingers. 

The farmland seemed 

to fly by us

as if we were the 

unmoving ones. 

No commitments.

Nowhere to run to.

Just a car ride

and a plastic bag

fluttering in the backseat, 

inflated with excitement. 

This poem is about: 
Me
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