• When the engine roars under her hands
    and the tires shudder at her feet's command
    the windshield sets its shoulders back
    the airbags hold their breath
    the seat belts clamp me flat

    She really can hug those curbs, tiptoes around them on two
    wheels
    red and yellow are variations of green to her
    kissing bumpers and slapping fives with rear view
    mirrors
    dancing on the sidewalks for chrissake
    zipping along on the emergency lane
    bumping deer off left and right
    clipping hedges
    shredding pedestrians' shirttails

    I hyperventilate, head between my knees--
    "Use your silly crash helmet, if you really need to heave."