Screaming in the car.
A poem for my mate.
We walk to his car, laughing and joking like we always do
Reeking of dried sweat from fighting on foam mats
Volunteering for violence, we despise our passive lives.
He unlocks the car, we get in and shut the doors, re-lock and check the windows are sealed.
Then we scream.
Scream as hard as we can
I beat my fists on clenched thighs, his arm muscles burn from gripping the wheel.
Lips are drawn back from dry teeth
Every bit of air in our chests launches at the windshield
because we’re trying to smash it
out from within.
Volume is a competition – this is the song of the unhinged.
The joking and laughing starts again
We feel better because the absurdity of our lives manifested itself.
The car-scream makes the weird real,
And we’re really weird.