The backseat nauseates me.
I can’t stand it
Because-
you spoiled me
with the title of co-captain in the passenger seat.
On our journeys to school,
you didn’t take me in a Mercedes, Audi, or Lexus
like the other yuppie kids at St. Mary Catholic
I rode in your oversized, noisy, forest-green pick up
right next to you.


The scent of your signature Givenchy cologne mixes
with the stench of oil, dirt, and sand collected from various construction sites,
The unique smell
Consumes
the cab of your truck.
Having the windows open-
Our hair whipping in the wind as you speed uncontrollably-
Gives a moment of relief
and ability to breath in that smelly seat

Dog hair buries the
gray upholstery with odd shaped coffee stains
from spills caused by your lead foot
slamming on the brakes
causing papers to fly and bodies to shake


The acoustics do not ring the same in the backseat.
I cannot hear your modified lyrics to the Lion King Soundtrack
or that ‘masterpiece’ you created,
‘I Love You Baby’
I giggle the entire ride
with over powering enjoyment,
and brutal embarrassment.
Everyone can see me with you
In the passenger seat of your truck


And I love it


As I eat breakfast,
I wait,
I long hear the roar of the powerful engine
Awaiting me outside
I cannot contain the amusement
That overwhelms me.
I grin with delight
Knowing I am always your first choice as co-captain
In the passenger seat.