We drove from Porto to Biarritz.
Mostly me at the wheel.
I let it rip.
Wanker!
Today, please.
What the fuck, you moron!
You fucking reject!
Drivers stopping in roundabouts.
Rubbernecking.
Not letting anyone in.
Cutting in like falling a car length back would kill them.
He used to try and calm me down:
“It’s not worth getting upset.”
“Don’t let them ruin your day.”
Today he lets me rip.
He does not soothe.
He does not correct.
He does not contain my fury.
Months ago he said:
"I get it now
you rage because you love people,
love humanity,
and it breaks your heart,
when they play small,
when they don't see what’s possible.
when they posture.”
“You rage because it breaks your heart,
to see their fear,
when you know their best”
Him saying that got to me.
He got me,
I got me again.
I still rage,
even while hunting for parking in Biarritz.
But now I know what it is.
Now I don’t suffer.
Now he and my girls feel safe,
knowing I’m ok.
