Joy Ride

A poem about not expecting to get hurt, but getting hurt anyway.

Joy Ride
On this road in a shiny new car,
fire engine red,
sporty and the desire of every heart.
Revving the motor,
the purr so smooth and low.
The seats of leather cooling the skin
that the sun touched only moments ago.
With his arm around me,
he puts the car in gear.
Pedal to the metal,
no matter the bumps in the road;
or the signs of caution.
No fear

No care is taken on the hairpin curves.
Barely completing the turns with out flipping over.
Music blaring, can't talk or listen.
But he doesn't care.
We're here to have fun,
no matter the consequences.
I want to slow down and enjoy the scenery.
Talk, compare goals,
see if we are sharing the same feelings.
But he just wants to drive and feel the wind in his hair.
He's too young to worry about the specifics now,
he'll worry about them later.

The bumps in the road are jarring
and starting to hurt.
The sporty new car,
not so sporty anymore.
The seats, once comforting,
are now cold to the touch.
Craving warmth and stability
the leather is just not enough.
The excitement of before
is now frightening and foolish.
No thoughts of the future,
when we decided to do this.

The sun has gone down,
forget them though I tried;
but the hurt feelings, a broken heart,
chilled bones, and bruised pride,
are just some of the injuries I sustained
on my little joy ride.