Habits

Every time I ride with him I must be mindful to swallow my comments.

Habits

A son of Singapore, you mastered

your motor skills on short freeways

unmarred by big rigs or black ice.

On endless trips I ride with a man who

earned a driver's license on an island

in perpetual summer, navigating

                          stop-and-go traffic only.

In town the rebel in you lets loose,

racing past posted limits. But on four-lane

                                               roadways

you drive slower than a slug strolling

            the Yellow Brick Road

certain that the Wicked Witch of the West

       will swoop down with a ticket.

I fret at the possibility of being late

because you prefer urban routes to highways

but, mostly, my lips are sealed.

I have become an inadvertent back-seat-driver.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor