God Rides Shotgun

The passenger grins mischievously

as she lowers herself onto the floor

of his car, blonde hair radiant

and flowing as she curls into a friendly ball,

and with eyes gleaming dares him to break

his rule and drive further along the road

as they are now physically comprised.

Down here hiding where she shouldn’t be,

the woman challenges his need to stay

in the driver’s seat as her spirit of play

infiltrates, tickles, tempts and awakens

his loosening grip on the steering wheel

and this illusion that he and a seatbelt

can protect them from all harm.

Or refusing to be compromised and listening

to those strident voices of pragmatic edicts

that we all traffic in, does he order God

off the floor and, with seatbelts firmly fastened,

motor soberly onwards into the day, perhaps

now safer, less anxious, yet less enlivened?

In the wings, she waits and is smiling….