Good Driver

by Edwin Wentworth

What if I don’t want a car crash,
Metal made public
Inelegant and
Headlights, smoke that I push gently through my body
And past your hair on the headrest,
On a pillow

Asleep in the morning,
I quietly ask you if I can bargain,
(The third in five steps)

– Turn signal
– Side mirror
– Bargaining
– Blind spot
– Catastrophe

But I know you’re fifty fifty on persistence
And your breathing doesn’t change
So it looks like I’ll have to guess anyway.

But we could walk instead
Down a crisp winter neighbourhood,
You could turn over
(Sirens in the morning)
And open your eyes if you think that would help.

I’m a good driver
I’m a good driver
I’m a good driver

(Prayers in the morning)
You then skin then shirt then blanket then skin then me
Air then window then air again

I’m a good driver

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

I’m a good driver

Bare branches on brick on blue sky
And the sound of tires on snow

Edwin Wentworth is a queer writer that hails from Toronto, Ontario and has been creating poetry for the majority of their life. They have been published by Soliloquies Anthology, Weasel Press, Months to Years, Hive Avenue Literary Journal, and various online blogs and periodicals. They have also been interviewed by Medeum.com in their capacity as a poet. They share a home with several bottles of wine, two very comfortable chairs, and many, many houseplants.