Fourth Gear

I’ve slammed into fourth gear after sitting in neutral. And I’ve never driven on the motorway before but the rush is delicious and the car contains me, I am trust falling at speed into the arms of a friend. I call my mum, I say, I’m on the motorway, where are you, she’s gone in a different direction, she’s gone down the A-Road and there’s traffic and I say, of course there’s traffic, I call my Dad and say where are you and he says I’m at home and I say why are you at home, and he says he’s waiting for the traffic to clear and I say there isn’t any traffic the way I went, there isn’t any traffic, he laughs and puts the phone down, I can hear the TV in the background. I realise I shouldn’t be on my phone on the motorway because if I keep trying to tell everyone everything, leak all of my aliveness, then maybe it won’t happen. Maybe the really good thing won’t happen. Maybe I need to keep it all in the car and keep going.