We Were Flying Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

Down a side street,
80 miles an hour,
my mouth distorts into a grin
thinking about how illegal
this is perceived by normal people.
My heart pounds as the
familiarity flies past wide eyes.
Cobain is screaming through the
busted speakers, Lithium,
I scream along with my
sister, forgetting the previous month,
who now holds my life in her hands.
Her drawing skill are shown with the tires,
zig-zags decorate the asphalt,
she laughs as I flop around like a rag doll
in the passenger seat, and I do, too.
We come to a slow, it's the end of the street,
I crave to go faster, to be louder, to cause anarchy,
my heart races, my arm gets an impulsive twitch,
and she laughs and says, 'That was fun, right? '
Breathless, 'Yeah.'