The Car Wind

Warmth and the smell of rapeseed
Fill up my nostrils
My hair has never been so free -
Now I just don't care

This car is so full of hard air,
It shouldn't still be on the ground,
I think to myself

It all gets louder and harder
The air pushing my face into
An uncut diamond,
A rough hand on my bent back
As I write this

The flower hanging from my wrist
Could be having a birthday as it
Bops along to the sound of the car wind.

My breasts stare back at me
From the window above my
Joyfully clasped hands,
Unmoved as the
Car wind gives me
The gift of a
Ululating lip.