But First

I’m waiting for my mom to move. She puts the car into drive. My car had airbags. The ones she grew up with didn’t. Huh. My mom is driving, I wonder why she’s taking this weird route. I never ask. I’m waiting for the car to stop. My mom could stop it at anytime. At stoplights, she has to. At fast food places, she doesn’t have to. I don’t know why my mom won’t just let me… I don’t know why my mom won’t… The car is in drive. The speed limit is 45, But it’s always too slow, or sometimes it’s too fast. I never ask why. My mom is driving. I’m an adult, but she drives anyway. It was nice of her to drive. So I can get some sleep in the car. But first, I’ll write a poem.