my mother's hands tighten

on the steering wheel.

the light is red and

she asks me if

i think about running it 

sometimes, into traffic.

i tell mom i think about drowning

into the green.

we drive forward

.
.
.

we drive forward

into the green.

i tell mom i think about drowning,

sometimes, into traffic.

i think about running it.

she asks me if 

the light is red and,

on the steering wheel,

my mother's hands tighten

Oh, My Word! Long time no poem! Olivia would love to hear from you after reading this poem. Leave a comment below!

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end rhyme adversary

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