We wished ourselves due
west, with a relent
-less weave and a horrendous
wobble. The bobble-headed ninny
on the dashboard says
there are way too many miles
to go. I hate her, from the crimson
smear of her lips to the blue of her
sparkle lagoon. No way are we
getting anywhere that’s any
-where soon, so if you could
just plunder me a Cheeto
or two from the back seat, I
might not have to kill you.
A wordle prompt from Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 20.
It never crossed my mind to hate her, but I can see it. You pulled it all together so effortlessly, even the lagoon!
This is an awesome pregnancy poem.