Backseat Driver
“Old Friends-NC” by E.A. Midnight
So far I find it easier to save myself in the city. It takes far less energy to cut and paste myself.
Not having a license is its own hurdle, but then to depend on public transportation, there’s Being a Woman. People have different expectations about your kindness as a woman. Combine that with my fear of letting people down. I think I can let them down now.
Women can be feminine at the bus stops here. Maroon wide-brim hat and two bags of fresh flowers. A little black slip. I think of Westport and trying to erase my figure completely.
Are the soles of my shoes really so thin as to spell out the rocks? I check again and again and nothing is wedged.
I never feel more feminine than when I see the shadow of my eyelashes in the shower, not even yet dredged in bat shit, just natural feathers fanning.
The bus keeps asking if I can guess what animal it is, and I say, aren’t you an eel these days? Wriggling in the middle? And it says no, listen. So I made a list in hopes it would pipe down for the 11 pm stretch.
Rubber chicken
Canadian goose
Elephant ajar (half-step out of sync)
Hailstorm
Garbage disposal pelican
When a minute goes by without seeing other headlights, I can pretend I’m on a shitty spaceship. I bet astronauts aren’t allowed Dramamine as if it were ketaxxxx but it’s definitely xxxxxmine.
I can imagine the dreams I’ll have one day, unable to lift my arm to pull the yellow cord and I’ll go around the loops like another horse on the carousel.
Have you ever heard of the Shepard tone? It sounds like it’s falling forever. Who is watching the sheep? I think of this as the subway slows to a stop. I fondle the wool in my pockets.
I wonder if the men get cold when I don’t sit next to them. I leave my coat behind.
Such a relief that I was, in fact, ready for this.
About the Author
Ashley Gilland is a writer and multimedia artist from Missouri currently pursuing her MFA at UW Bothell. Her work is published in Dishsoap Quarterly, So to Speak, Thimble, and The Waxed Lemon, among others. When not writing poetry, she also loves composing music and embroidering mixed media art projects. Find her music on Spotify and Bandcamp, her art on Instagram (@pocketsnailart), and her tweets at @earlgreysnail.
about the artist
E.A. Midnight is a neurodivergent artist specializing in multi-modal, cross-genre hybridities. She is a strong advocate for challenging the boxes creative bodies are put in. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, Inverted Syntax, Miracle Monocle, and Poetry Northwest. A full list of her published pieces can be found on her website, www.eamidnight.com. E.A. Midnight resides in the Colorado wilds.