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Driving With Bubba

All the windows were rolled down
my hair flew out of the tight band
He had his music up loud
but you couldn't really listen to it
without listening to the bass and treble
I couldn't understand how anyone could enjoy this
but I kept quiet
because he wouldn't be able to hear me anyway
The stick driven car pulled and jerked at random moments
like a roller coaster
As he switched lanes, he just bearly missed the
many cars on the freeway
I kept whisperin in my head that we were going to die
As I looked out the rear view mirror I could only see blurs due to the treble and bass of his rap music
I was never one for rap, loudness, speed, or stick shifts, or him, but at the moment I was more than ever glad to be his cousin

I am scared of everything, and he broke all my rules of safety in that one drive, but I came back just the way I left, other than my messy hair

17 Mar 07

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haha...like the footnote.
but not so much the poem.
great plot, but i don't think you explained it very well.
it's not really a poem...it's like a double-spaced paragraph.
funny though, because i fear speed too.
 — Cherish

more about driving, more about bubba,
I like the bubba part, maybe tell us about him.
The poem almost ends well, but the footnote is, I agree, the best part.  
you should consider working it into the poem.
No need to repeat bass/treble/rap music, in fact, you don't really need it at all.
L11 "barely".

some ideas if you're interesting in revising this:
"the windows roll down,
my hair flies out the tight band
(you do something here, like look at him with nervous eyes,
so he turns up the tunes)
he puts music loud,
bass thumping to keep me quiet".

then you could explain the crazy speed and your fear etc.
good try, keep it up. =-)
 — jenakajoffer

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