a poem by Colby Nargang and Haley Mary Arzab
This is going to be a bumpy ride.
Across the mud, we glide.
This ain't no slip and slide.
Goin' on a jeep joy ride.
Driving through the park.
It's getting to be after dark.
Gun the motor. Step on the gas.
What are you waiting for? This jeep can go fast.
The backseat takes the bumps worse than the front, they say.
What does it matter? There is joy in the ride, anyway.
Don't ask me if I'm scared.
You're probably more freaked out than me,
as with your shoulder, the ride to you isn't as fare.
Go out on the highway. It's late at night.
Though the smog in the city doesn't allow for the stars to shine too bright.
Goin' up the hills. Hands off the wheel.
The jeep pretty much drives itself, no big deal.