Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Driver

You were plump then, little brown pigtails sticking out from the sides of your head, and a cute smile. Everyone called you a sweetheart. That was a long time ago. Now you stand before me in a fitted tank top and too short shorts that show your form off. You are beautiful- you always were- and no longer persuaded by my arguments. I am not the influence in your life. Your friends have taken on that role and it is they that have called and told you to come right away. I imagine you will enjoy the party, but I worry about you making the drive. It is a good distance and you are an inexperienced driver who's attention quickly shifts between a text message, a new ringtone, the radio station, and occasionally the road. Every time you walk away and climb in that contraption you call a car, I wonder if it will be the last time I see you. Will you be coming home tonight?

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

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