Poem: If I could Drive
If I could drive,
I would drive until I couldn’t anymore.
Windows down, music up, hair blowing in the wind.
I’d pick a road and follow it just to see where it went.
I would go to the beach.
I’d spend the day with my toes in the sand,
then come home dragging half the beach through my car and wonder where it came from for the next six months.
If I could drive,
I would get lost on purpose.
I’d take the wrong turn,
keep going, find some tiny town I’d never heard of and decide I needed to know what was there. I would pull over for sunsets.
I’d sit there with the engine off and watch the sky change colour until it was dark enough to need headlights.
I’d take out my phone, maybe change the music, post a selfie, post the sunset with some ridiculous caption.
Hashtag blessed.
If I could drive,
I’d drive with my lover.
We’d have the music low, the windows cracked and nowhere we needed to be.
I’d reach across the console and take their hand, my thumb brushing over their knuckles while the road stretched out ahead of us. We’d talk about everything and nothing.
At red lights, I’d look over at them and smile.
Then the light would turn green, and we’d keep going.
I would go out for midnight hot chips.
I’d eat them in the car, get salt everywhere and pretend the crumbs weren’t going to live there forever.
If I could drive,
I would take the long way home.
Turn left because the road looked interesting and keep going because I had nowhere else to be.
I would stop at roadside food stalls.
I’d buy something I didn’t need because it looked good, put it in the passenger seat and eat half of it before I got home.
If I could drive,
I would go on road trips without a plan.
Fill my car with friends, make a playlist, buy far too many snacks and argue about who gets control of the music.
Of course it would be me, because it’s my car.
I would see a sign for somewhere I’d never heard of and think, why not?
I would say, “Fuck it. Let’s go to the coast.”
On a Tuesday. At two in the afternoon. With half a tank of petrol and absolutely no plan.
If I could drive,
I would drive through rain.
Wipers going, heater on, music loud enough to make the weather part of the soundtrack.
I would take my dog.
Let her sit in the front seat, stick her head out the window and bark at anything she saw.
I’d reach over and scratch behind her ears, happy to be with my best friend.
If I could drive,
I would have rubbish in the cup holders, sand under the seats, receipts in the glovebox and absolutely no idea how any of it got there.
I would pull into a servo at midnight for absolutely no reason.
I’d buy a terrible coffee, wander around looking at things I don’t need and leave with a packet of sweets I definitely didn’t need.
If I could drive,
I would forget where I parked.
I would miss a turn.
I would blame the GPS.
I would probably swear at someone doing forty in a sixty zone.
If I could drive,
I would sometimes drive nowhere at all.
Just because the night is warm, the roads are quiet and the music sounds better after dark.
If I could drive,
I think I’d spend a lot of time going nowhere.
And I’d probably have a bloody good time getting there.