my old chipping, sticker-covered, periwinkle honda

has seat warmers in the summer--

unrequested but delivered by the sun

through my untinted windshield

(i always meant to get that done)--

there are no overhead lights to check my

compartments when it's dark

just a rectangular mark to show me what i could have had

with a couple more thousand dollars


sometimes rivers run down my back and i

wonder if i'm damaging my hearing

the unimpressive factory speakers

compete against aggressive gusts of wind from

semis passing by

but i think they might make a new kind of symphony

and i'm hearing music differently anyway these days

all these years of sitting in the driver's seat and i'm finally sitting in the driver's seat


this is my sanctuary-on-wheels

where i tease my hair with interstate breezes

and no amount is too much for me

i always roll the windows down

POEMSHaley Sheffield