Driving, not driven
Did I notice the signs? Perhaps
it was the tone to your parked purr,
or the way your seat cuddled into me
as I pulled the belt to a hug
across my full-inflated chest.
At every junction you chuckled,
the choke from your old dirge gone.
Each time my hand reached down
to re-gear our touch lingered, warm.
No, I caught no sign of our truce:
the metal fretworks decking the street
stole my eyes from your dash. Today
we fought killers beyond the windshield,
partners in our driving crimes.
Did I notice the signs? Perhaps
it was the tone to your parked purr,
or the way your seat cuddled into me
as I pulled the belt to a hug
across my full-inflated chest.
At every junction you chuckled,
the choke from your old dirge gone.
Each time my hand reached down
to re-gear our touch lingered, warm.
No, I caught no sign of our truce:
the metal fretworks decking the street
stole my eyes from your dash. Today
we fought killers beyond the windshield,
partners in our driving crimes.
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