Driven

Driven

I hear myself talking
and know that it is happening,
it must be, I somehow got
into my car and even though
I wanted to drive into a tree
I stopped at the lights, and,
more the miracle, started again.
I had my hair done because
I keep my appointments
and Atlanta is covered in fog
so you can almost believe
humor still lives somewhere.
These people around me, some
of them have to have chosen fear
and anger, even if they seem kind,
that is the Southern way, but now
it is America, the monsters
are out of the closet and
they've thrown off their hoods and
they are proud. They have won.
So I got my hair done, but
my foot wanted to plunge right,
to use gas to escape. Everyone
would believe it's an accident.
We all know women can't drive.