California Girls by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
We scramble into your white Mustang
top cranked down, ready to roar
Shed decades as you squeal
around the first corner
In the back seat Kathy’s long black hair
tangles in the wind
Her knees bang and rub
find no place to go
Passenger-side my brown locks
blow wild as Medusa’s tresses
I shrill a yelp of joy
as we race a red light
Grandkids forgotten we soar
through the July night
Rockin’ and ready, California fillies
running free for a while
