Thanking My Mother for Driving

In honor of Mother's Day (and for a required poetry slam assignment for school), I decided to write a poem thanking my mother for driving me throughout my childhood and high school years.

The simplicity of sitting as a passenger,

as if life’s chauffer said, “Buckle up,”

and drove that shiny limousine

as far as I desired.

 

I want to thank my maddening mother

for commuting every day

to school, to sports practice,

through city traffic

growing grumpier as each

light lit up red,

honk,

honk,

middle finger.

 

I want to thank my maddening mother

for singing along to the stereo,

even though I’d had enough

Tanya Tucker by age 9.

I want to thank my maddening mother

for leaving her purse in the backseat

so that she could reach back and sling it

forward into my lap so that

I could groan graciously.

I want to thank my maddening mother

for her stern sermons

only a mother could give

as I rolled my eyes and stared

into the next car over

            Only to later discreetly deny that she was dead-on

            as I sang hallelujah to the heavens that I had listened.

 

I want to thank my maddening mother

for the times I feared we’d kill each other

that the police would find us

gripping each other’s throats

still strapped into the Ford Escape.

 

I want to thank my maddening mother

for being a good sport

for vacuuming up my vomit

when I got sick on the route to school

for buying me a cool new Kmart outfit

and wishing me a wonderful day

as she drove off to work alone basking

in the aroma of my breakfast.

 

But most of all,

for the innumerable moments

when she brought my blood to boiling point

for deliberately instigating disputes

so I could say “Mom, I hate you,”

and defiantly place my heels on the dashboard

of her limousine.

Would I like to thank my mother!

for keeping the journey interesting

and playing the role of

Life’s greatest chauffer.

Author's Note

This is my first entry so any critique is welcome!