Thursday, November 4, 2010


muliebrity\myoo-lee-EB-ri-tee\, noun:
The state of being a woman.

Mother never told me it would be like this.  I hit my leg with my fist but it doesn't feel like me.

I look over at you; your hands on the wheel, ten and two. Always ten and two. I face forward again and close my eyes. It's so bright outside; I can see the shadows of the trees as we drive by them; as they slide over my eyelids. It's sunny and the windows are open just a crack. There had been talking; there had been the radio, but now there was nothing. Just the sun coming through the windows and the click of the highway and my eyes closing.

I sink lower into the passenger seat, put my feet up onto the hard plastic of the dash. Underneath is the airbag that would save me but break my legs. Send them crashing into my rib cage. I glance over at the speedometer and see we are going at around 70 miles an hour. Scrunched up like this, I am a bullet inside of a bullet.

Outside, the trees continue to pass with the time and my eyes run with them.