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Road Trip

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Hair sticks to the nape of my neck;
Thighs stick to the car seat.
The seat heater. The seat heater is on.
“Who turned my seat heater on?!”
“Shut up, Agnes,” from the backseat.
Mom and Dad in the front,
Me and Adam in the middle,
Dumb and dumber in the backseat –
That’s my side, moron,
Get your feet off of me!
Music is a drone;
Books are boring.
I’m too tired of sleeping anymore.
I peer out the window
At the same trees, same grass,
Same old boring.
Eating, just to eat.
Cheez-its never tasted so bland.
I braid my hair, then untwist it,
Then braid it again.
Bored? Bother the backseat.
I picture the evil grin
Spread across my face.
Turn signal,
Exit right.
“Everybody get out;
We’re not stopping again.”
Everyone piles out,
Our herd of six.
This is my chance.
I stick Rob’s turkey sandwich
Inside his pillow case,
Hide Mike’s iPod,
Add some orange juice to his Coke.
“All good everyone?”
“Mom, I need 75 cents.”
“Yeah me, too; I need 50.”
Vending machine junk,
Every kid’s favorite.
On the road again,
Driving, driving, driving.
Innocent, through and through.
“Where’s my iPod, Rob?”
“Why does this pillow smell like meat?”
A sip of soda,
“Ugh, what the…?”
AGNES!





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