In My Car MAG

By Jessica A., Palatine, IL

   I stop at the light,

at the yellow - to play it safe

No one is around me.

I turn up the music.

In my car, I am a rock star,

the steering wheel my drum,

the air, my guitar.

The loudness increases,

the radio decreases,

the solitude ceases,

I am on stage in mismatched denims and fleeces.

The instruments are mine,

self-made, but divine.

My hands and my feet

keep the cadence in line.

People are chanting,

singing and panting,

They love me,

They love me,

My senseless bantering.

The concert has ended today,

My hands in the air,

Security whisks me away.

I wish I could stay,

but the people have tasted

more than they can handle for only one day.

So I glance out my car,

The lady is laughing at me from afar.

And the man is pointing as he smokes his cigar.

In my car,

I am not a rock star.

I am a lunatic.

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This article has 1 comment.

i love this !


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