Route 80 slices through tawny wheat fields
And bleeds a blue stripe down past oil refineries
We swing through our jug handles and clench
a Styrofoam coffee cup that’s spitting from the lid
Windows down, music up, our hair doesn’t tangle
We’re saving up for a spoiler or sunroof
Summer jobs at roadside ice cream stands
puffing Parliaments on our breaks and calling all our girlfriends
We laugh a little louder because
We don’t just know our flaws, we play them up
Frizzy hair – spritz on mousse
Thin lips – paint them red
We smirk in the rear view mirror, we can rule the world
And look good doing it
What is the Jersey Girl’s revolution?
What is her poetry?
She finds it in midnight parking lots
Yellow-lit with stick shifts and Pabst Blue Ribbon
She finds it singing off-key with her girls on road trips
She wakes up and asks no questions, seeks no answers,
Just keeps on driving, one hand on the wheel,
The other fixing her bangs.