and i remember screaming in the passenger seat of your parents car
the street lamps on the culdesac spinning through the moonroof
the mirrors flashed bulbs in my eyes
inches from the curb you dropped me off then wished me good night
i walked past my mothers room
still dizzy from your driving
and blinded by the lights
and she quietly asked, 'did he kiss you?'
i lied and blushed a ‘no’
‘at least he was kind enough to drive you home’