Backseat of a Minivan

This entry is part 9 of 16 in the series Issue VI: Fall 2010

by Iris Stone

We’re driving along, listening to an old school song. I’m sitting in the backseat of my friend’s minivan. This boy sitting next to me don’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

“Listen, my brother, you have your own knees and lap,
Move them hands or suffer a slap.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Lady, what you talking about? I’m not being shady, I like you and I just want to know you.”

My reply is, “Yeah right, I’m not part of your show.” I say to my friend:

“Stop this car and let me out
Before I say something unpleasant out my mouth
Don’t ever ask me to ride in the back of this minivan
Because I’m not trying to be pushed up on by some dumb ass man.
See you girl, nah, I don’t want to ride in the front seat
I’ll still be in the presence of this silly geek, freak or whatever you want to call him. I’m angry right now, my blood is boiling, I’m seeing red
How dare you take such liberties in your big head
To reach over and touch this thoroughbred?
You shouldn’t been allowed in this minivan,
You should be by the curb waving your hand.
Taxi, please take him to the other side of town,
Because yes, he’s definitely a clown.”

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