Artifacts of Wayward Maps

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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.
 

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A wordle prompt from Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 20. 

 

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