Racing

I’m up far too late/early

Again

But from the sound of it

So is everyone else

There’s a truck that rumbles past my window

Every night/morning at 2am

Again at 2:30 or 3

If he’s feeling like doing something different

I keep having these dreams that I’m driving

Something solid and rumbling

I’m racing

Going as fast as I can with the stereo blasting

More alive than anything or anyone can make me feel

I am not a racecar driver

Unless you count the way I speed

Through the rush hour on 580

My greatest foe is a prius

Every time I see sexy man in a fast car

I get this urge to pretend my Honda is an Aston Martin

I am not a racecar driver

But I want to be

When I have more time, I say

When I’m not in school, I say

When I’m cooler or prettier or better

I say

I will be the fastest blur that has ever blown your skirt up