Everything about driving was driven out of my head
(except the memory of his hands,
steady at the ten-and-two)
and he wasted no time.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“To be popular?
To be like everyone else?
What happened to you?”
Before he could say another word,
I found myself hissing back at him,
“What if I got sick of being a nobody?
What if I wanted to change?
Why shouldn’t I be allowed to?”
DMV ladies stared us down until we stopped.
Later on, it occurred to me.
I never thought of myself as popular.